


Collateral Damage

by pmonkey816



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2253051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmonkey816/pseuds/pmonkey816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delphine Cormier and Beth Childs are soldiers stationed in a war zone. One day, they're assigned three journalists to go on a routine ride along with them. But nothing ever seems to be as easy as it should be, does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too Early

**Author's Note:**

> This would not get out of my head. And I'm hoping that by writing it, it'll dissipate so I can focus on other things, too!

“Hey. Delphine.” A hand poked at her side, and she shifted away from it, pulling her blanket up over her head. “C'mon, Blondie. That's Reveille. Wakey wakey.” The cover got ripped from over her head.

 

She groaned, squinting into the artificial light of the barracks. “trop tôt, Beth.”

 

“I have no idea what you said, but too bad.” Beth tugged on her arm, pulling her from her bed. “If you don't pass inspection by the time they come around, none of us will.”

 

Delphine rolled so that her feet landed on the floor and she sat up, rubbing crusted sleep from her eyes. “All right, all right. I'm awake.”

 

“Good.” Beth walked the few feet to her bunk and started to make her bed, fluffing the blanket up into the air and letting it flutter down onto the center. “We've got that ride along today, remember? Gotta be in tip top shape for the gossip rags.”

 

“Then you should let me get my beauty rest.” Delphine stood and began to make her own bed, as well.

 

“Not my fault you're a night owl.” She tossed over her shoulder, not even glancing up from where she was now crouched next to the bed, making sure the blankets were tucked in tightly and smoothly. She turned around, watching Delphine as she finished making her own. “Race you to the latrine!” 

* * *

 

The ride in the humvee was bumpy, as always, but somehow being in the back of the truck made it worse. Delphine was trying to listen to the journalist next to her, but she found she couldn't focus on it. It was enough, being in this desert wasteland, she really didn't need a camera in her face and a constant barrage of questions on top of it. She missed having just her unit with her, they all had the decency to be quiet this early in the morning.

  
“Cormier, that is a familiar name.” The journalist sitting next to her said, cocking her head to the side slightly to indicate it was intended as a question.

 

“Oh. Yes.” She turned back with a weak smile, one of her hands digging into her own thigh through her camo. “It's a somewhat common name in France.”

 

“Ah.”

  
Delphine glanced back out the window, only to have the woman who had been previously talking to Beth turn to her. “You seem reluctant to talk to us, Corporal Cormier. Is everything all right?”

 

Beth turned her head enough that Delphine could see her smirk, eyebrows lifting in a silent laugh, though she said nothing.

 

“Oh, yes. My apologies, I had trouble sleeping last night.”

 

“Look fine to me.” The photographer muttered under her breath, snapping another photo of Delphine who held her eyeroll until she'd lifted her head away from the camera.

 

“Cormier always looks great.” Beth called out over the rumble of the truck's tires on the dusty ground. “That's why we keep her around.”

 

Delphine laughed, shaking her head. “You're a brat, Childs.”

 

“Hey!” She glanced over her shoulder, throwing a smile at her friend. “Who's the Sergeant here, Blondie?”

 

Cormier crossed her arms over her chest, turning her head to look back out the window.

 

“That's what I thought.”

 

“So, Corporal, what made you want to go into military translation?” The woman in the front seat asked, smile wide and friendly across her face. If Delphine decided to like one of these people, it would be her. Unfortunately, her patience for journalists on the battleground was practically non-existent.

 

There was a crackle on their radio, saving Delphine from responding, and a voice came through. “Gunfire reported in the town square, possible terrorist activity, proceed with caution.”

 

Beth picked up the radio, and held down the side button. “Truck Alpha Foxtrot three oh responding.” She grinned over at the journalist next to her. “You ready for some real action?”

 

Beth had always had a flair for the dramatic, but the sharp 180 she took that armored truck in was a little much, even for Delphine, and she grasped at the roll cage to keep from crashing into the red-haired journalist next to her. The sounds of gunfire got nearer and nearer, and she felt herself tighten her grip around her gun subconsciously.

  
“All right. When we get there, stay. In. the fucking. Car. You'll be safe in here.” She tugged at the wheel, taking them around a tight corner and making them all sway to the left. “We'll let you know when it's okay to come out. This is only for your safety, do you--”

 

The truck pitched away from the loudest noise Delphine had ever heard, sending it toppling over on its side until it landed on its hood. There was shouting— _lots_ of shouting, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. She could see blood all over the journalist next to her and her photographer friend, and she tried to gauge their injuries using only sight. Were they dead? A blackness, thick and heady began to descend over her, and she squinted in an attempt to compromise between the blinding pain in her head that willed her to close her eyes and her will to stay conscious and help the others.

 

“Beth?” She called, clawing dumbly at the belt at her waist. She managed to find the clasp and she fell onto the hood of the car. “Merde. Beth!” She called again, navigating around the bloody, unconscious bodies next to her. “Are you...?” A rush of blackness hit her again, leaving her with bursts of light behind her eyelids and she groaned, feeling it spread into her limbs. “Qu'est-ce qui ce passe?”

 

* * *

 

She was the first to wake up. She could tell because there wasn't a single noise around her, not even the faintest, most distant one. Her eyelids pulled apart with sticky difficulty, and she thanked god it was apparently nighttime because the inky darkness didn't exasperate the blinding pain in her head. She brought a hand up to the back of her head and found brittle wetness. When she pulled it back and squinted, she saw red crumbles in her hand.

 

“Merde.”

 

She glanced around, trying to figure out where she was and why. The bodies of the journalists were tossed into careless heaps onto the cement floor underneath them, contorted in unnatural shapes. She caught camoflauge out of the corner of her eye and she crawled over to it, pulling at the arm so the figure fell onto her back.

 

Her eyes were closed. She wasn't dead. If there was a higher power, they were certainly smiling on this lot today. “Beth.” She stroked at her forehead gently, not wanting to jostle her in case she'd broken any bones.

 

Beth shook her head, letting out a little whimper. “Wha?” Her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted. “Cormier? Where the hell are we?”

 

Delphine sat back on her heels, retracting her hand back to her thigh. “I don't know. Are you all right?”

 

“I think so.” She sat up, swaying slightly before chuckling. “Just a little light-headed.”

 

“Yeah. Me, too. Explosions will do that, I suppose.”

 

“Explosion.” Beth said, rubbing at her forehead. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense. What doesn't make sense is why we're not buried underneath a hummer right now.”

 

“That I have no guesses on.” She rubbed at the aching muscles of her shoulders. “My assumption is we've made the POW list.”

 

“What an honor.” Beth deadpanned, turning to look at the other bodies around them. “The journalists—they all right?”

 

“I don't know.” She stood, walking over to the first one she noticed. It was the one with the glasses—what was her name again? Cosmo? She touched a gentle hand to her arm. “Hey.” The girl didn't respond, and she felt her heart rate pick up in her chest. “Hey... You. Wake up.” She exhaled through her nose, letting her eyes fall shut. “Please don't be dead.”

 

“Not dead.” The journalist below her slurred, opening her eyes slowly. “I don't think I am, at least. And my name's Cosima.” She propped herself up on her elbows, took in their surroundings. “Fuck.”

 

“My thoughts exactly.” Beth was standing now, trying to get a glimpse out the window that was an easy foot above her head.

 

“Will you all shut it?” The photographer groaned, English accent thick in her drowsiness. “Christ, I feel like I fell off the wagon again.”

 

“We're all alive, then.” Delphine felt a smile wash over her. Maybe everything wasn't terrible. Maybe they could get out of this.

 

“Wait. Where's Katja?” Cosima, still on her back in front of Delphine, asked.

 

“Who?” Beth gave up on the window, instead turning to lean against the wall.

 

“Katja.” She reaffirmed, urgency in her voice growing even stronger. “Y'know. Bright red hair, thick German accent. Can't miss her.”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“Sarah, do you see her anywhere?” Cosima looked at the photographer with panic flashing in her eyes.

 

“I can't see anything you can't.”

 

“Shit.”Cosima muttered, lifting her torso fully off the ground and glancing around quickly. “Shit, shit, shit.”

 

“Oi. Cos. It'll be all right. I'm sure she's fine.” Sarah crawled over and put a comforting hand around Cosima's shoulders. “She probably got away. Help's probably on the way. Everything's gonna be okay.”

 

Delphine glanced up, catching Beth's eye from across the small cell. No, things were most definitely not going to be okay.


	2. Bags Aren't Just for Lipstick Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, glad you all liked the beginning of this chapter! I'm not so good at writing the action-y things, so I hope that flows somewhat naturally. As always, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy the next installment!

The journalists had fallen asleep—slumped in a tangled mess on top of one another in the corner—but Cormier and Childs were still very much awake. Delphine sat on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest, and watched Beth pace back and forth in front of her—bouncing off the walls like the least interesting game of pong ever. She brushed her fingers through her hair. It was still dark, too dark to see much but outlines and glimpses of patterns washed gray and black without light to bring out the color. It was a new moon, probably, given the brightness of the stars in the perpetually cloudless sky, and the utter blackness of the world around them.

 

“Beth, please. Will you just sit down?” Delphine asked, eyes following as Childs made it to one wall of the cell then turned on her heel and headed back to the other.

 

“I can't. I'm just...” She huffed, pausing to turn to Delphine and placing her hands on her hips. “Wired.”

 

Delphine pushed up off the ground and brought herself to her feet so she could walk over to Beth. She placed her hands on her shoulders. “I know. Me too.”

 

“I keep feeling like something terrible's gonna happen any minute.” Beth looked over at the bodies still on the floor. “And you know it's up to us, right? Those two are gonna be useless.”

 

Delphine nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Beth smacked her arm with the back of her hand. “Do some push-ups with me.”

 

“Now?” Delphine raised her eyebrows. “Don't you think we should try to conserve our energy?”

 

“And let ourselves rot? No way.” She tugged on the arm of Delphine's uniform. “Come on. Just twenty. We gotta stay strong if we want a chance at getting outta here.”

 

Beth got down onto her hands and the tips of her toes and Delphine followed begrudgingly, feeling the weight of her injury and her fatigue already bearing down on her. By five push-ups, she could feel her metabolism kick back to life and at ten, her stomach growled.

 

Beth laughed. “That's good, Cormier. Stay hungry.”

 

She moved down then pushed herself back up. “Why is starving good exactly?”

 

“No, not hungry for food.” Beth was breathing hard now; it was comforting to know she was just as drained as Delphine. “Hungry for freedom.” Another push-up. “For justice.”

 

“You sound like a newsreel from the 1940s.” Delphine laughed, giving up and rolling onto her back.

 

“Just trying to stay hyped.” She rose to her knees and shuffled over to lie next to Delphine. They laid side by side for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling they couldn't really see, breaths coming harsh and heavy through their mouths.

 

“How are you two acting so normal?” Cosima had raised her head from Sarah's shoulder and was now squinting at them in the darkness. “I'm scared shitless.”

 

The two of them propped themselves up on their elbows. “We're soldiers.” Beth said, blinking, looking between Cosima and Delphine. “This is what we're trained for.”

 

“Okay, yeah.” Cosima moved closer so she could discern more of their features and Delphine lifted herself onto her palms. “But you're not robots.”

 

“Most people freeze when they're scared.” Delphine said. “Soldiers are trained to fight instead. It's just a different reaction to the same phenomenon.”

 

“Oh, God. Don't go all science textbook on us now, Cormier.” Beth muttered, letting herself fall back flat against the floor again. “Or, do. Maybe then I could actually get some sleep.”

 

“How did you get so funny?” Delphine deadpanned, shoving at Beth's leg with her knee. “Really. I'm dying of laughter.”

 

“You're into science?” Cosima's words were barely spaced enough to be understandable. “That's so cool.”

 

“Um, yes. It's a...” Delphine paused, searching for the right word. She thought of herself as a young child, the way she'd collect starfish and mollusks from the tidepools at her family's house on the coast or the time she'd spent reading the science section of her Father's newspaper. He never wanted to read it, anyway. “I suppose it's always been a hobby of mine?”

 

Beth grunted, still lying on her back and squinting. She could've sworn she saw a crack in the ceiling—was she making that up or was it real? “I think your real hobby is being right all the damn time.” She muttered.

 

“You ask questions. I answer them. What's so wrong with that?”

 

The sun had begun to make itself known, lessening the gray so that they could make out more than outlines and grayscales.

 

“You're a know-it-all, Cormier.” Beth was smiling, and Delphine thought it was nice to be able to make out the familiar expression again.

 

“No, I'm a realist.” Delphine responded.

 

“Don't hate, sergeant.” Cosima cut in with the same smile that had endeared her to Delphine earlier, which was now clear on her features, as well. “Intelligence is sexy.”

 

Beth laughed. “Don't encourage her.”

 

The door opened with creaking hinges, and a man stood in its place. He was average height with olive skin and a black bandana pulled up over his nose and lips. All anyone could really make out was his deep brown eyes. He spoke, nothing most of them could understand, and Delphine straightened. She responded in an equally unfamiliar manner.

 

Cosima tugged on Delphine's arm. “What is he saying?”

 

Delphine turned, wincing. “You really don't want to know.”

“Tell us what he said, Corporal. That's an order.”

 

“I suppose the best translation would be 'how are you sluts doing today?' Though, 'whores' could also be considered an appropriate word choice.” She waved a hand thoughtfully. “Based on his tone, I believe it was a rhetorical question.”

 

“Oh.” Cosima's nose wrinkled. “How... nice of him.” Cosima's brow furrowed. “Ask him where Katja is.”

 

When Delphine responded, all Cosima could understand were the words “Katja Obinger” in an accent so foreign she'd have missed it were she not straining to hear it. The man laughed, and the door swung shut, rusty hinges groaning as it did.

 

“I take it he didn't say anything.” Cosima said flatly, sighing and sinking back to the floor.

 

“What's going on?” The photographer had woken, and was glancing around the room, as though she were surprised her current situation wasn't just a dream.

 

“No fucking idea.” Beth replied. She was sitting against the wall under the window now. “I'm gonna try to get some sleep.”

 

A few minutes passed with them all resting in an unsettled silence. Katja's specter hung over them all; she was a foreboding twist in their stomachs, an irksome arrhythmia of their hearts. Then the door swung open again. The guard didn't speak this time, just tossed a black bag into the room, letting his laughter and the slamming door echo through it when he left. For a full minute, nobody moved.

 

“Oh, for god's sake.” Childs mumbled, standing and reaching down for the bag. “I'll do it.” She pulled it open and glanced down, then shut it quickly again. Delphine was the next to take it and look inside.

 

“Merde.”

 

“What is it?” Cosima stood and reached for it.

 

Delphine pulled it away from her. “You don't need to see this.”

  
“Corporal.” Cosima's voice was quiet, but intense. “Give me the bag.”

 

“Cosima, please trust me.” Delphine begged, holding the bag behind her.

 

Cosima raised her eyebrows and held out a hand and Delphine handed it over with a sigh and a frown. Cosima opened it, giving both her and Sarah—who had wandered over during the commotion—an easy view of its contents.

 

“Oh, my god.” Cosima dropped the bag and turned to the wall, placing her forehead against it. She prayed the coolness of it might ease the sudden fever she felt overtaking her.

 

“I'm so sorry.” Delphine said softly, moving over to her and placing a hand on her back. “Are you all right?”

 

Cosima let a slow breath out through her lips. “Not really, no.” She looked up at Delphine's face. “I've never seen a decapitated head before.” Her eyes shut tightly and she let gravity tug her head back to a natural downward hang.

 

Delphine tugged on the shoulder farthest from her, turning Cosima to face her, and pulled her into her arms. Her hand instinctively reached up to brush over dreadlocks, the other clutching tightly to her shoulder. “It's okay. It's gonna be okay.”

 

Delphine glanced up and caught Beth's eye. Even her war-hardened sergeant looked like she may throw up any minute. She looked over to Sarah, and found her settled back on the ground, hand wound tightly through her own hair.

 

“Holy shit.” Sarah muttered. The sound only made Cosima press tighter against her. “They're just gonna leave it in here with us, aren't they? Sick fucks.”

 

Cosima pulled away suddenly, panic crossing her face. “Oh, no.” She said, grasping tightly at the arms of Delphine's fatigues. “I never—she asked me to wake her up, but I thought I'd let her sleep.”

 

“What the hell is she talking about?” Beth snapped.

 

“I don't know.” Delphine shot back. “She just saw her friend's bloody head in a bag, will you giver her some time?” Beth rolled her eyes and looked down to her hands, and Delphine nudged Cosima's chin up with her knuckle. “Hey. What's wrong? What are you talking about?”

 

“Veronica. She was sleeping when I got up to leave, and she asked me to wake her up, but I figured I wouldn't be gone long and I should just let her sleep. I—I never said goodbye.”

 

Delphine's brow furrowed. “Who's Veronica?”

 

“Girlfriend.” Sarah replied, a hard disinterest on her face despite the hand clenching tightly in her long hair.

 

“Oh.” She turned back to Cosima. “You'll see her again.”

 

“You don't know that, Corporal.” Cosima said. Her eyes were bright with tears and her breathing had slowed only minutely.

 

“No, not for certain. But what I do know is that there are four of us here, and we've been brought here for a reason. Whoever the people who have us are, what they want is leverage. If their endgame was us dead, we would be.”

 

Cosima laughed, shaking her head. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

 

Delphine let out a slow breath. “For you, yes. Because journalists are better bargaining chips than soldiers. They'll come after me and Beth first because people expect soldiers to die during war.” Cosima looked off to the side, and Delphine chased her gaze with her head. “But you, they'll want to keep alive because people will be working for your release.”

 

“Yeah, except you lot are our only hope at busting outta here, yeah?” Sarah added, hands now hanging between her knees. “So what good is it if they kill you?”

 

“She already told you, dipshit. Whatever stupid news agency you're working for will put pressure on the US or the UK or wherever the hell you're from, and they'll negotiate with whoever has us captive to get you released.” Beth said, standing. “But you're right about one thing. If you and I want to live, Corporal, we're gonna need to start looking for an out.”

 

“What do you have against us, anyway?” Sarah snapped. “You've both been bitches from the start.”

 

“We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you!” Beth shouted back, taking a few strides forward to get up in Sarah's face. “You're the reason they took us!”

 

“Shove off.” Sarah growled, taking a step forward, as well. “I didn't even wanna be on this bloody assignment in the first place. I hate soldiers, you think you're so great cause you can kill innocent people while they cower in their own homes.”

 

Delphine was shoving Cosima off of her and rushing toward Beth at the same time Beth grabbed Sarah by the collar and shoved her up against the wall. “Beth!” She grabbed at her cocked arm, pulling her back and standing between the two of them with her arms stretched to their full span to keep them apart. “Both of you! Take a deep breath. Being at each other's throats is not helping anything!” She raised her eyebrows and glanced between them, slowly lowering her arms when they seemed to accept what she said.

 

“Whatever. Just stay away from me, London.” Beth pointed at her, then turned and headed back to where she'd been standing before.

 

“Bitch.” Sarah muttered under her breath, sinking back down to a seated position.

 

“Sarah. Come on.” Cosima said softly, arms wrapped around herself. “Let's not make this situation any worse than it already is. Please.”

 

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, all right. For you, Cos. Not for the battle bitches.”

  
Cosima walked over and sat down next to her, and the uncomfortable silence settled again. Delphine watched the two of them, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched but making no other effort to make contact of any sort. She looked back over at Beth, who'd begun running her hands along the walls and trying again to jump up to the sill so she could look out the window.

 

“You just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?” She asked. She didn't even need to turn to know Delphine was watching her.

 

Delphine glanced back one more time to the journalists, who still sat quietly, staring at the ground together. Then, she walked over to her commanding officer.


	3. This can't possibly be real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all. I just wanted to pop in for a quick hello. I also wanted to say--I realize I chose a very loaded topic, and I want you to know that it's not something I take lightly at all. Trauma is sorta my thing I know a lot about and have studied extensively, and I'm doing my best to really take the time to think out every step and how each character would react to it.
> 
> Aside from all that, I'm glad folks enjoy reading this, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Cosima couldn't stop staring at that bag. Sergeant Childs had nudged it into the corner with her foot earlier in the morning, her face contorted in a pained grimace as she did. Like touching it—even with the thick rubber of her boot—disgusted her. Cosima closed her eyes, and Katja's—open and smudged with blood and flies—stared back at her. She opened them again with a start, and Sarah stirred next to her.

 

“You all right?” Sarah asked, quietly enough to not attract the attention of Childs and Cormier, who were currently in the process of trying to boost Beth up so she could look out the window.

 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Cosima sighed and rubbed at her temple. “I mean, I'm alive, right? That's something.”

 

“Yeah, but it's not everything.” Sarah nodded, everything about her hard except for her eyes. “I spent most of my life just being alive. It's not enough.”

 

“For now it is. It has to be.”

 

“Yeah. Guess you're right.” She looked over at where Beth was berating Delphine for her grip slipping and making her fall, and Delphine was rolling her eyes, one hand resting on a stuck out hip. “If those two are our only hope at getting outta here, we're screwed.”

 

Cosima chuckled, the first time she'd felt like laughing since the explosion. It was nice, familiar, but fleeting. “Yeah, let's hope the embassies are rallying for us like they seem to think they are.”

 

It was the middle of the day now, and the sun through the small window was making the room they were in shimmer and bake with heat. The cement floors and walls made it only slightly better, sucking the heat from wherever they touched them. The soldiers had taken off the top halves of their uniforms, leaving Delphine in an undershirt and Beth in a tanktop.

 

“Blondie's not so bad, though.” Sarah shrugged casually, continuing to look at them but watching Cosima's reaction from the corner of her eye.

 

Sarah's words tapped some unknown cavern in her, and Cosima could feel the energy begin to seep out of her pores. “Yeah.” She looked down to her hands. No, Corporal Cormier wasn't that bad. There had been something about her that drew Cosima's eye from the very second they met. The fact that she was withdrawn with everyone but Beth, that she spent so much time just watching the sand fly by them in the truck, that she'd smiled with such an enigmatic sadness, had only drawn her in more. She'd looked forward—with a frustratingly characteristic naïveté—to getting to know her better, to finding out what had wounded her. “I mean, she tried to protect me, to comfort me. That's nice of her, considering she barely knows me.”

 

“Still. She's a bit... frigid.”

 

Delphine collapsed onto the ground and tugged out the band that had been holding her hair back. She ran her hands through it, shaking the curls back into a loose hang, and let herself fall onto her back. Beth started pacing again with her hands on her hips while Delphine tried to coax her into relaxing.

 

“I wonder what happened to her, don't you?” Cosima asked, returning her gaze to Sarah.

 

“Not really, no.” Sarah reached over for the canteen the guard had brought in (along with some flatbread and hummus that had been split equally and devoured within minutes), took a quick swig, then handed it to Cosima. “But if you wanna know, go play hero. She looks like she could use a drink.”

 

“Thanks.” Cosima took the bottle and stood, moving until she could resettle next to Delphine on the ground. “Hey.” She held the bottle out. “Thirsty?”

 

“Oh, yes.” She took it, pouring the water into her mouth from a short distance so she didn't have to put her lips on it. As she lowered the canteen, some water splashed off her chin and onto her chest. Cosima wrapped her arms around her knees. No. This was ridiculous. They were in a room with a _head._ “Thank you.”

 

“Anytime.” Her voice came out slightly pinched, and she cleared her throat and took a swig of the water herself.

  
“How are you doing?” Delphine asked, her hand coming to rest on Cosima's forearm.

 

“Still pretty shaken.” She admitted. She looked to the hand wrapped around her arm and licked at her dry lips. “But better.”

 

“Good.” Delphine patted her arm with her hand, then pulled it back. The lack of heat felt empty somehow, even though they were practically baking in the small room. It had been a nice feeling, one that made Cosima feel weighted to the moment. Up until that second, she'd felt like she wasn't really there at all, like at any moment she'd shake off a daydream, stand, and walk out the door and Katja would be there, alive and smiling. Maybe her desk would be there. Her cell phone. God, she missed her cell phone.

 

But Delphine's hand had pulled her back down into the line of fire. While it wasn't a particularly good situation to be in, she'd been grateful to feel her body again. The numbness, the sense of distance from herself and everyone around her had left her sitting silently for hours, simply staring at the black bag in the corner. She took another quick glance at it, still feeling as though it couldn't _really_ have Katja's head in it. That sort of thing just didn't happen to people like her and Sarah and Katja.

 

“Thanks for looking out for me. I really appreciate it.”

 

Delphine cocked her head slightly to the side, an equally askew smile on her lips. “It's nothing anyone else wouldn't have done.”

 

“Uh-unh.” Cosima shook her head, dreads smacking against her shoulders. “There are two other people in this room, and neither of them did anything.” She nudged at Delphine's leg with her foot. “Admit it, you're special.”

 

Delphine laughed and shoved back at the foot's gentle assault with her knee. “They're just under a lot of stress.”

 

Her laugh was lovely. It warmed her, opened her. The Corporal's touch had brought her back to Earth, and her laugh made her feel as if she belonged there.

 

“So are you. So am I. No excuse.” She leaned onto one elbow, resting her head in her hand, so that the two of them were eye level. “You're really great.” Delphine opened her mouth to speak, but Cosima raised her free hand. “Just... accept the compliment.”

 

She chuckled and looked down at her hands, a sudden flush in her cheeks. “D'accord. Thank you.” When she looked back up, she was biting her bottom lip.

 

Cosima's entire body started pulsing to the beat of her heart. She had the sudden and overwhelming desire to touch her, to feel that weight tethering her to herself again. To feel normal again. “You, um, you have a—” She reached a hand out and wiped at a smudge of dirt on Delphine's cheek. The sweat made it come off easily under her thumb, but she took her time anyway, knowing Delphine had no way of telling. She stroked along her cheekbone, high and distinct. _God,_ _she_ _'_ _s_ _—_ She cut the thought off and dropped her hand, instead bringing it up to cover her eyes, forcing her glasses up her forehead in the process. “I think the heat's starting to get to me.” She laughed.

 

This was  _really_ not the time, she reminded herself again. But truthfully, as scared as she was, she was equally lonely. She wanted arms wrapped around her, holding her close. She wanted someone to tell her it would be okay, someone she trusted enough to believe in spite of herself. She wanted the comfort of closeness, which can somehow allay even the greatest turmoils. She needed it.

 

“Are you feeling all right?” Delphine reached up and placed the back of her hand to Cosima's forehead. “You feel a little warm, though I suppose that's not surprising.” She tried to place the canteen in Cosima's hand. “Keep drinking water.”

 

“No, no. I'm fine, really.” She pushed it away. “I would kill for a shower and my bed right now, though.”

 

Delphine groaned. “Merde, a shower sounds incredible.” She let her head fall back and her eyes shut.

 

“That's what I would do, if they told me I could have an hour to do anything before they killed me. Take a shower and cuddle in bed with a book.”

 

“What about your girlfriend?” Delphine's head was back up, one brow arched.

 

“Things have been... off lately.” Cosima admitted. Her lip twitched. “I mean, we're going through all the same motions we did before, but I just don't feel connected to her anymore. Like she's there but she's not. You know?”

 

“What are you doing, Cosima?” Delphine asked, her voice quiet.

  
“Um, telling you what I would do if I had an hour left to live and I could do anything?” Cosima replied, a knot starting to tangle in her chest.

 

Delphine chuckled again, much more subdued than before, and shook her head. “Of course. I meant, why are you telling me this? Why are you acting as though nothing's happening?”

 

Cosima pushed up, crossing her arms on her knees. “Is it bothering you?”

 

“Non, not necessarily.” Delphine didn't move, didn't chase her with her eyes or her body. The knot in Cosima tangled larger and more messily. “I just don't think I understand.”

 

“Cormier!” Beth's voice seemed sharp and cutting in the tension that had settled over the two. “Quit flirting and get over here, I think I found something.”  
  


Delphine's gaze didn't waver from Cosima's. “Duty calls.” She stood and walked over to Beth. “I wasn't flirting.”

 

A tone of regret sounded in the emptiness of Cosima's chest.

 

“Sure seemed like it to me.” Beth responded.

 

“Why? Are you jealous?”

 

Cosima shut her eyes and did her best to tune out the rest of the conversation. Of course. She should've seen it before. Corporal Cormier and Sergeant Childs had an easy rapport. It wasn't a very far leap that they were more than friends. She laid herself down the rest of the way. She hadn't done anything that day, but she still felt exhausted. Maybe it was the heat.

 

She didn't interact with anyone again until the sun went down. She'd floated into the ether again, the world indistinct through a filmy haze. She felt separate from the world, and no one tried to bring her back again. It wasn't until the nagging cold of the nighttime had made her arms start to ache that she lolled her head off to the side to take in the room. Sarah was sleeping against the wall, body huddled in on itself for warmth. Delphine had laid by Beth, the two of them with their coats back on now. Beth laid on her back, breath bringing her chest up and down steadily. Delphine was on her side, though not for long, because every little while she would shift to her back, or move her arm, or resettle some limb that was laid awkwardly in some way. Cosima began to time her, counting slow Mississippis in her head, to see how long she sat still for. It was never more than three seconds over a minute.

 

“Corporal Cormier.” She said, not quite whispering but still not as loud as she would have been were it the daytime. “Are you awake?”

 

The body, which hadn't been still since it had gone prone, froze. “Yes. I cannot sleep.”

 

“Me, either.” Cosima patted the rough concrete in front of her. “C'mere.”

 

Delphine moved so that she was lying next to Cosima on the floor. “Do you need something?”

 

“No. I'm just tired of feeling alone, you know?” She looked into the shadowy greyness of Delphine's face and found blackness where she would usually be able to read some sort of reaction. “I guess that's why I was trying to act normal. I just want to feel connected to someone.”

 

“What about Sarah?”

 

Cosima sighed, and shut her eyes. Delphine was being polite. Delphine wanted nothing to do with her beyond her duty as a soldier. Okay. Fine.

 

“We're not that close.” She swallowed and rolled onto her back. “It's fine, Corporal. We don't have to talk.”

 

After a minute passed, Cosima felt certain Delphine had taken her up on the whole silence thing. She shut her eyes, feeling foolish in a way she hadn't since high school, and tried to will herself to sleep again. But her mind wouldn't quiet, wouldn't quit spouting insults and images of Katja at the backs of her eyelids.

 

She remembered her first crush on a woman—a girl, really—in high school, how terribly it had gone when she'd confessed it to her and tried to kiss her. Then there was the time her freshman year of college when she hooked up with a guy at a frat party and he'd told everyone about it in intricate detail (including a few made-up ones) and she'd spent a few hellish months fielding questions from every frat boy she came into contact with about whether or not she was double-jointed. And lest she forget—

 

“Delphine.” The voice startled her, and her bones dug uncomfortably into the floor. She turned her head to look at Corporal Cormier (as though she could actually see much but the outline of her, the faint lightness of her skin).

 

“What?”

 

“Call me Delphine.”

 

“Okay.” She was grinning, and suddenly she was glad for the shadows' presence, that it hid how stupidly and trustingly she let Delphine lead her away from their situation. “So, if you had an hour to live and you could do anything, go anywhere, what would it be?”

 

Delphine chuckled. “What?”

 

“You know, I would take a shower and read in bed. What would you do?”

 

“Ah.” She let out a little hum as she thought, then finally said, “I would also shower, then I would drink a glass of wine at the beach.”

 

“Okay, I lied.” Cosima said, nodding slowly. “I would be on the beach with you, drinking wine. Maybe smoking a joint.”

 

“A joint? Really?” There was an amused, shocked, sincerity in her voice that made Cosima scooch herself an inch closer.

 

“Really. I'm from San Fran originally, so...” She shrugged a shoulder. “I couldn't really not smoke pot.”

 

“Is that so? I've never been there.”

 

“Oh, my God. You have to go, it's amazing. If we get out of here, I'll take you there and show you all the sights.” Cosima promised, then quickly added, “Pinky swear.” She held her hand up, and she saw Delphine do the same, their knuckles bumped and scraped awkwardly a couple times before their pinkies found one another in the dark, but they wrapped gently around one another. The touch was lingering in its softness and heat, and Cosima felt a slight shiver run through her.

 

“Are you cold?” Delphine retracted her pinkie.

 

Cosima considered confessing that she'd feel much less cold if Delphine had kept her hand there, but decided against it. Instead, she simply nodded then, realizing Delphine couldn't see her, said “yeah. A little.”

 

She heard the shuffling of clothing and skin, then felt something heavy drape over her. “Take this.”  
  


“What is it?” Cosima felt at the fabric, it was thick and rough. She could feel the warp and weft of it, the thick stitches that comprised it.

 

“My coat.”

 

“No, then you'll be cold.” She pulled it off and tried to give it back to Delphine.

  
“I am fine. Please, take it.” Cosima felt it being pushed back toward her.

 

“How about we share it?”

 

“How does one share a coat?”

 

Cosima's heartrate quickened drastically. She reached a hand out to Delphine's arm and tugged on it lightly until she complied and shuffled forward a little.

 

“Like this.” Cosima draped the coat over the two of them, now huddled close enough that it could cover most of both their exposed skin comfortably.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Is this uncomfortable for you?” Her voice had a slight waver to it, her mind teetering on the edge of that rejection reel again, when Delphine responded.

 

“No. It's sort of... nice, actually.” Her body moved even closer, and the fabric lifted as her arm shifted up. “May I...?” Cosima could feel the heat of Delphine's arm, ghosting over her ribcage and she shut her eyes.

 

“Yeah. Of course.” The arm dropped and wrapped to fit around her ribs. Cosima brought her own arms up to hold Delphine, who was still a few inches from her.

 

Delphine let out a small yawn, and a bone in her jaw cracked loudly. “I'm suddenly feeling very tired.”

 

“Yeah, I could sleep, too.”

 

“Bonsoir, Cosima.” Delphine's voice was so sleepy it was already beginning to slur.

 

“Good night, Delphine.”


	4. Communication Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just wanted to say thank you again for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. You're seriously the best, so thank you thank you thank you. As always, enjoy!

The second the four of them walked into the room, the women assembled there scrambled to their feet, standing at attention. There were roughly nine of them, though Captain Leekie quickly dismissed all but two. The three journalists were left standing with opposites of one another, one dark haired and smirking as if she were capable of nothing else, the other blonde with tight lips tugging only slightly into a frown at the edges. If these were the people the military thought most fit to put them with, Katja thought as she flicked her eyes over them in their matching uniforms, then it was in worse shape than she'd anticipated.

 

Katja Obinger wasn't accustomed to this class of people. She'd grown up wealthy in Berlin. Her father was old money, from a family comprised mostly of master brewers until recently when the bloodline had devolved from artisan to businessman. He was of an amiable, ruddy sort; young-looking until he reached sixty, and youthful in his behavior long past that. He had a habit of making slightly off-color jokes and being staunchly socialist in his party affiliations. Her mother cared nothing for politics, though she was borne of it. She was the daughter of a former prime minister. She'd never quite given up on her total rebellion from her father and his friends' prim propriety, and thus was given to exposing more of her skin than was appropriate, even as she aged. Most people didn't mind; her body was to the day of her too-young death in a car accident well-formed. Even the women who sniped so snidely behind her back were appreciative of that.

 

Her parents adored throwing parties which were renowned for getting slightly out of hand, and she'd spent many days of her youth watching her parents drink until even her mother tinted red beyond her makeup, the both of them flirting shamelessly with those around them. Her father's flirting was well-intentioned and friendly. Her mother's was as honed and cutting as the sharp angles of her cheeks and elbows. Katja had learned much from those parties, from the older men who hit on her from her twelfth birthday onward. The two women who stood in front of them, hands folded behind their backs and stances intentionally spaced to the width of their shoulders, were not accustomed to the frivolous games of wealth, that much she was sure of.

 

“Sergeant Childs, Corporal Cormier, I'd like for you to meet the people you'll be riding with today.” Captain Leekie was also nothing like Katja had expected, though his manner was more familiar to her than the soldiers'. “This is Katja Obinger, Cosima Niehaus, and Sarah Manning.”

 

“Hi!” Cosima jumped forward, always ready to meet a new person. “I'm Cosima.” Katja secretly envied her ability to rise to the social occasion. She reminded Katja of her father with her bright smile, with the air about her of having a secret only she and the person she was talking to was in on. “We're from the--”

 

“Al Jazeera News Network.” The brunette replied, extending her hand to take Cosima's in a firm handshake. “We know.”

 

The blonde also reached out her hand, taking Cosima's in a much gentler grasp. “Delphine Cormier.” Was all she said. There was something aloof about her, a displaced interest. She seemed to care little for what was happening around her. Her eyes flickered from Cosima to Captain Leekie to the door. She could still see the hallway from where she stood, and Katja mused that she seemed already in the newly-risen sunshine.

 

“Katja.” She was the next to offer her hand, and shake the two of theirs. Sarah didn't do so on her own. Instead, she'd already taken to wandering around the room, inspecting each bit of it as though it would be vital information for later. Katja presumed this was what made her such an effective photographer.

 

“Sarah.” Cosima said flatly, a gentle chiding in her tone. “Come introduce yourself.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Hey.” Sarah waved from where she'd collapsed onto one of the beds.

 

The blonde, Cormier, winced and Childs twitched forward.

 

“Hey! Get off of there!” She was rushing toward the bed, grasping Sarah by the arm and pulling her up.

 

“Oi! What the hell?”

 

Sarah had a way of resisting everything that came her way, whether it was good or bad, warranted or not.

 

“Sergeant Childs!” Leekie's voice was stern but affectionate, gentle in his patronly way. “Be nice to our guests.”

 

One may have expected Childs to react in a manner befitting this sort of rebuke, but instead she rolled her eyes. “Please.” She said through gritted teeth.

 

Katja suspected Sergeant Childs was not used to being out of control.

 

“The army has strict regulations around neatness.” Cormier explained, her cool indifference sparking a familiar annoyance in Katja. “You're rumpling the sheets and making it so Elizabeth will have to remake her bed.”

 

It never occurred to Katja that this annoyance was so familiar because it rang with the self-righteousness of an old friend. The name Delphine gave her pause—yet, she would never connect this blonde woman to her childhood friend Delphine Beraud, whose brunette ringlets touched below her shoulders. Daniel Beraud and Elise Obinger were friends for quite some time, and naturally when they had kids it was expected they should be friends, as well. Delphine was well known in the socialite circles of their parents' for the dimples in her cheeks when she smiled and her charming, twinkling laughter. Katja never saw these qualities in the woman standing in front of her before her death. Perhaps if she had, she would have been able to see the connection.

 

The moment they stepped outside, Katja wished she'd brought her sunglasses. The sun in this desert wasn't surprising, she'd been here before, but still it overwhelmed her every time. Cosima was still attempting to woo the soldiers, to make them trust her. It was a fruitless effort and if she'd had any inkling that Cosima would attempt it when they'd met in the hotel a few days before she would have tried to warn her soldiers were never warm toward journalists. Though, Corporal Cormier's particular brand of coldness seemed to spur her on even more than usual. Cosima was interested in Sergeant Childs, even going so far as to take the front seat next to her when it was prompted, but she lavished a particular sort of attention on Cormier.

 

It was also an old sort of comfort to hide her eyes behind the dark tint of glasses. She'd found this usually unnerved her subjects to the point of an even blunter honesty. Cosima usually took a different approach. Her intelligence was unmistakeable, but still she hid behind an innocuously friendly demeanor that set people instantly at ease. Katja used her indifference and Cosima her charm, but both managed to lull those they were interviewing into the notion that what they had to say was of the utmost importance. Yes, she and Cosima were worlds apart, though not as far apart as Cosima and Sarah. Upon meeting, the two had instantly began bickering. It was exhausting just watching them.

 

During the ride in the truck, the two soldiers had been more standoffish than before, with Cormier choosing to look out the window instead of engaging with her and Sarah. They were crammed uncomfortably close like fish in a tin in the backseat of the humvee which, of course, was not air conditioned. Childs was answering most of the questions, seemingly aware of without ever seeing the sneer on Cormier's face every time a question was asked. One got the sense Cormier was acting when she was forced to answer, the responses were short and courteous, practiced but odd enough to not seem so.

 

And then there was the explosion.

 

“I think she died before they cut off her head.” Delphine said, squatted in the corner with the black bag in her hands.

 

“What?” Childs was the one who responded, though all three pairs of eyes were on Delphine.

 

Cosima had woken up alone that morning, jacket still draped over her body. Cormier and Childs were speaking in hushed voices in the corner. Delphine was towering over Beth even more obviously, with her head ducked down to avoid being heard by the others. It was a familiar feeling of loneliness to wake up alone, Cosima thought. She wasn't much for one night stands for that reason exactly.

 

“There's no bruising or blood along the neck here.” Delphine looked up at Beth, her eyes avoiding anyone else's. “I'm not a forensic examiner, so I don't know for sure, but there's no sign of struggle either. Look.” Cosima chose to turn her head and focus on finishing her food, but Beth and Sarah moved forward to see what Delphine was talking about more clearly. Beth hadn't been eating, anyway, and Sarah didn't seem to be bothered. Her food was still in hand as she peered over Cormier's shoulder at the severed head. “The cut is relatively clean, considering it was done with a knife. If she were alive she would've struggled.”

 

“That's dark, Del.” Beth said, chuckling as she shook her head. “Even for you.”

 

“What does it mean?” Sarah asked.

 

“It means perhaps we have a chance after all.” Delphine's words barely matched her expression, which was a line pulled grim. “They didn't murder her.”

 

“Unless they weren't the ones who set off the bomb,” Cosima shot back, still turned toward the wall, “then they most definitely did.”

 

The others in the room grumbled a bit, but offered no clear objection to what she said. The only response was Delphine saying softly, “you know what I meant.”

 

The two of them had an odd relationship to one another, Cosima felt. There was a fleeting comraderie, a gravitational pull that forced them together whether they wanted it intentionally or not. Yet at the same time, they both struggled against it. Delphine seemed tense whenever Cosima approached her now, and Cosima was irritated at how she could be so weird about something as innocent as cuddling at a time like this.

 

Cosima stole a glance at Delphine, only to catch sight of Katja's decaying head held gingerly in her hands, the bag being used as a barrier between her bare hands and the rotting skin. She shut her eyes and tried to jostle the image from her memory. She wanted to remember Katja as she was. She was a good journalist, and Cosima had been excited to work with her. She'd spent months from the moment her editor had told her they'd be working together researching her, reading all of the articles she'd written. It was an extensive body of work, executed flawlessly.

 

Executed.

 

Her stomach churned.

 

Katja hadn't seemed particularly interested in her. Now she'd never know why. Now she'd never be able to win her over or learn from her. She glanced up at the small window. “I had this one story that was my big break. Everyone told me I'd never be able to make the move from being a science writer to being a political journalist, but I knew I could prove them wrong.” In the patch of sunlight outside her window, she could see a bird coasting, making circles as it began to descend to the ground. “I had almost all of the information I needed, but there was this one piece that would make it all come together. A quote from someone on the inside.” As the bird got closer, she could begin to discern its shape. It was large, and dark. It's head was featherless and bright like a flower. “I slept with someone for information and quoted him even though it was supposed to be off the record.”

 

Delphine, still squatting and leaning slightly against the wall for support, raised an eyebrow. Beth barked out a laugh. Sarah simply glanced up from where she was bent over Cormier's shoulder and watched without expression.

 

“So what?” Sarah was the person who finally spoke.

 

“So, my big break is built on an ethical violation.” Cosima responded with a morbid finality. The bird hadn't landed quite yet, and its frame hulked close to the window. It was a vulture, she realized now, probably summoned by the scent of Katja's decaying flesh. Was it possible it could sense it even through the window pane?

 

“Fuckin' civilians.” Beth shook her head, and glanced back to the head, tilting her head to the side as if she would be able to see it the way Delphine did.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Cosima finally moved her gaze from the window to Childs, her hands rising to her hips without her thinking to do it.

 

“It means your obsession with what's 'ethical' is irritating.” Beth waved a hand at Delphine, who quickly dropped the head back into the depths of the bag where no one could see it. Cormier knew better than to linger on whether or not the wounds were postmortem or antemortem, Beth was gearing up for a fight and she was her wingman by default in this situation.

 

“You're not ethical?”

 

“You want me to confess my sins, princess? Cause I don't think you can handle them.” Beth had straightened as well now, and squared off with Cosima. Sarah seemed coiled to pounce on her any second, so Delphine took a step forward to stand between the two.

 

Cormier wasn't close with anyone in the squad but Beth. It wasn't surprising, given the nature of the rest of them. DeAngelis, who was gruff and harsh and generally unkind; Norris, who couldn't talk about anything but gossip; Stubbs, who was goofy and happy-go-lucky. The list goes on, but it's unnecessary to name them all. Cormier was simply too sensitive, too private to befriend any of them. She and Beth wouldn't be friends if Childs hadn't shown up on her doorstep one evening with a bottle of cheap California Syrah and a pack of cigarettes and forced her way into the shoddy duplex Delphine lived in just off the base. It was another night of being rebuffed for drinks by text message, and Beth had had enough.

 

Miraculously, somehow the gambit worked and the two of them had settled into something that was comfortable, if not entirely intimate. They both knew they could rely on one another, if nothing else, and a small seed of affection had been planted between them.

 

“Yeah.” Cosima was gritting her teeth, her anger hanging obviously in the room, which was too small and fragile to contain the weight of both their tempers. “What have you done that was so bad?”

 

“It was night.” Beth started, undeterred by Delphine's hand on her arm, urging her wordlessly to think her actions through. “Our squad was going to check out a house that had been reported by locals as housing terrorists. We thought the intelligence was good. We were wrong. I can remember it so clearly, though. It was cold, but I couldn't feel it. The only reason I know is because my gun was cool when I grabbed it. I remember it feeling especially heavy that night, I don't know why. Maybe it knew what was coming. I felt uneasy, but I chalked it up to nerves. I should've known, should've trusted my gut. Instead, we moved in on the target. There was no one on the first floor of the house, so we moved up to clear the second story. DeAngelis and I went in one room, Cormier and Norris in another. The rest of the squad was covering either outside or in the ground floor. When I opened the door, there was someone there. He was holding something in his hands, I thought it was a gun. He shouted something and I shot, hit him a little north of between the eyes. He died instantly. There was yelling from the other room, Cormier was talking to the people there. When they heard the gunshots, they came my way. Cormier tried to tell me that our intelligence was wrong, but it was too late. A man was dead.” There was a pause as everyone simply watched Beth, whose eyes shone and shoulders slumped.

 

“You couldn't have known.” Cosima said, surprising all of them. “You couldn't have.” She said it as though she needed to reaffirm it for herself, as though she had to believe the woman she was sharing a prison cell with was at least halfway decent.

 

“Yeah, that's what the army said.” Beth laughed. “But he wasn't even a man. Was he, Del?” She glanced over at the other soldier, whose hand had dropped because she knew better than to touch her when she was like this. Delphine's eyes shone with the tears she knew Beth would never shed over her mistake. “He couldn't have been more than sixteen.”

 

“What was he holding?” Sarah asked, ever tactless.

 

“A handheld tape player. He was listening to George Michael.”

 

Cosima glanced to the window again, and noted that the vulture was no longer in view. She wondered where it was, if it was sitting on the other side of the wall or if it had moved on to something better. Perhaps there was a different corpse, one of an animal, nearby.

 

“I'm sorry.” She said, softly. It was unusual for her to be so thoroughly trounced but she took it in stride as much as she could.

 

“So that's why your morality is stupid.”

 

Just like that, the sense of pity that had descended on all of them had been whisked away by Childs' sparkling personality.

 

Cosima chose not to say anything this time. Instead, she made a conscious effort to slacken her jaw and release the words she wanted to snipe back soundlessly with into the ether.

 

“I hit my ex-boyfriend in the face with an ashtray.” Sarah said suddenly. “He had it coming though, the bastard.”

 

Beth nodded, and Delphine ran a hand through her hair.

 

Cosima asked “what did he do?”

 

“Beat me pretty regularly. But mainly I hit him so I could get away and start a new, clean life.”

 

“Well, good.” Cosima grunbled, leaning against the wall. “Fuck him.”

 

“What about you?” Sarah nudged Delphine with her elbow. “What terrible thing have you done?”

 

“Yeah, Cormier.” Beth was on the edge of laughter, and doing a damn poor job of holding it in. “Confess your sins to us and yea, ye shall have absolution.”

 

Delphine rolled her eyes. “I haven't done anything.”

 

“Bullshit.” Cosima's response was eerily quick, as though she'd anticipated Delphine's reluctance to share. “Everybody has something.”

 

Delphine bit her lip, which Cosima had begun to notice was something she did fairly often, and looked to the ground. It was covered in a thin film of dirt, something she hadn't noticed before. Was it clean when they'd gotten there? Was the sand from their clothes and boots or the dregs of people held here before?

 

“I got a letter from my father a few months ago. He's dying and he wants to see me. But I didn't write him back and I have no intention of going to see him.”

 

“Shoulda figured you had daddy issues.” Sarah muttered.

 

“Shut up, Sarah.” Cosima said, walking over to where the three of them stood. “Why don't you want to see him?”

 

“It's a long story.” Was all Delphine said.

 

“That doesn't sound so bad to me.” Sarah added.

 

“If he can send you letters, he must know where you live.” Cosima's eyebrows were furrowed, as though she were attempting to puzzle through Delphine's enigma. “So why doesn't he just show up on your doorstep?”

 

Delphine scuffed at the grimy sand with the ball of her boot, finding nothing but more dirt beneath the loose grains. “He's in prison.” There was a beat then she added, “I'm glad he's going to die alone and depressed in jail.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Beth reached a hand up to her shoulder, not squeezing or offering any sort of usual comfort. Instead, her hand just rested there, dead weight against the thin material of Cormier's white cotton t-shirt. Which was stained red with spatters of blood.

 

After a few minutes, they all broke apart, retreating to their corners. It had been maybe an hour since they'd all finally awoken (with Sarah being the last of them to rouse) but an unshakeable exhaustion had settled in each of them. Cosima had just formulated exactly what she wanted to say when there was the loud clang of the door swinging open, and another guard shouted something. The guard's voice was high-pitched—so much so she had to be a woman—and they all scrambled to their feet despite the fact that only Delphine could understand her. After scarcely a minute of conversation, the guard had ziptied Delphine's hands behind her back and shoved her out into the hallway.

 

Beth had run at them with the notion she could play hero lodged somewhere deep in her mind, but another guard had stepped forward and pointed the considerable length and heft of his gun directly at her forehead. She faltered, stumbling a half-step back and shooting a sideways glance at Delphine.

 

“I'll be all right.” Cormier said, smiling with only the right side of her lips. “Take care of them, okay?”

 

Beth nodded, emotion breaking through to her face in a way neither Sarah nor Cosima had seen before. “I will. I promise.”

 

And then she was gone.

 

“Fuck!” Beth screamed, slamming her palm against the now tightly locked door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 

“Oi! Calm down, meathead. You want 'em to take you, too?” Sarah shouted, grasping at Beth's shoulder until the soldier pulled it away harshly and turned on Sarah with lips drawn in a tight line and fire flashing in her eyes. Her nostrils flared wide.

 

“Get off me!”

 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Cosima jumped to get between the two of them, despite her better judgment, and held them at arms' length the way Delphine had the day before. Or was it two days? Cosima couldn't remember. “Relax.”

 

“How am I supposed to relax? They took her!” Beth shouted, gesturing in broad strokes toward the door. “Jesus Christ!”

 

“Who cares?” Sarah responded, voice only slightly more subdued than before. “We need to focus on getting out of here.”

 

“Come on. This is a big deal.” Cosima brought the hand that had been holding Sarah from Beth to her temple.

 

“Why? I mean, all right. It's bad for her. Sad stuff. But we can still bust outta here.”

 

“Oh, my god.” Beth turned, chuckling humorlessly, and placed her hands on her hips. “You're a fucking idiot, you know that?”

 

“And you're a murderer, but you don't hear me being a twat about it, do you?” Sarah snapped back, and Cosima straightened again to hold back the both of them from pouncing on one another.

 

“Sarah.” Cosima said, incredulously. “Come on, you have to get it.”

 

“Get what?”

 

Beth groaned, falling to sit against the wall. “She's the only one that can communicate with them, you moron.”

 

“Oh.” Sarah's anger dropped into quiet contemplation. “Oh, shit.”


	5. Time Flies When You're Having Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all. Things start to MOVE in this chapter. I hope you like it, it's a doozy. Lemme know what you think! Thanks for reading, enjoy!

The room Delphine had been brought to was smaller than the cell she'd been in. It had apparently been white originally, but time had ground dirt into the paint and left it a murky gray at best. The floors were kaleidoscopic clusters of small squares, most of them cracked and crooked if they weren't missing altogether. There was a chair sitting in the middle of it, one of only two pieces of furniture, and Delphine was hastily shoved into it by the guard.

 

The room had a window, set in a normal spot about waist-high this time. It reminded her of the buildings in the public army buildings, the ones in her childhood home as well. They were obviously at least a story above the cell, though the view through the foggy pane offered only a sea of sand for a vista. The guard shoved an old mug beneath her nose, and a strong acrid odor wafted into her nostrils, grasping at them tightly and making them burn. She instinctively turned her head away, feeling her stomach churn. Gut rot. That's what Beth would've called it. Rocket fuel.

 

“Drink.” The guard said, in her slow, heavy Arabic. The language seemed unwieldy in the guards' mouths, Delphine had noticed that already. It must be a dialect from the country, she supposed.

 

“Why?” Delphine kept her face turned away from the sickening stench, but slid her eyes over to regard her captor.

 

“Trust me.” The guard said, moving the mug so it was yet again under Delphine's nose. “It will help what comes after.”

 

Delphine sighed. This was it, then. They would kill her; get her drunk and cut off her head on camera so the pentagon could award her some sort of medal and teenage boys could watch the video on the internet. So journalists could look sternly and somberly into the camera and say, “the following video contains graphic images. Viewer discretion is advised,” while they profited off making her death a public spectacle. Her death wouldn't be so different, then, from much of her life. She'd rescue her family's reputation in death from the destruction her father had wrought on it in his life. It all seemed fitting. Poetic, even.

 

She parted her lips slightly and let the woman tilt the liquid into her mouth. It was room temperature, which simply enhanced the feeling of its thickness around her tongue and, worse, it burned. More than she could remember alcohol ever doing so before. She swallowed it quickly simply to rid herself of the taste. Once it was gone, the guard let up and walked over to place the mug back on the table while Delphine shook her head, trying to shake off the vodka's lingering, bitter sting.

 

The guard's back was still to her, shuffling around something on the table, when she spoke again. “Do you smoke?”

 

Delphine tried to speak, but coughed instead, the fumes of the alcohol were still sitting heavily in her throat. She cleared it, and tried again. “Yes.”

 

The guard lit a cigarette then placed it between Delphine's lips, who inhaled greedily. If she'd had last requests, these would probably be it. What more could someone on the verge of death ask for than a last tryst with their worst vices? After her inhale, the guard held the cigarette next to her hip and Delphine leaned back, closing her eyes and letting the smoke out in a small trickle.

 

“May I ask you something?” She said, opening her eyes just enough to take in the reaction from the small woman. She saw her eyes flicker over but said nothing. “Why are you doing this? Giving me the alcohol and the cigarettes?”

 

The guard placed the cigarette back in Delphine's mouth, waited for her to finish inhaling, and took it back again, flicking at the little slug of ash on the end of it with the pad of her finger.

 

“You seem like nice lady.” She said finally. “But he says it must be done. The drink will help.”

 

“Who's he?” Delphine asked.

 

“No more questions.” The guard shoved the cigarette into her mouth again. They did the assisted-cigarette dance in silence until it was burned down to its filter and the guard dropped it to the floor and smashed it with the toe of her boot.

 

“Okay.” She said, squatting down to be eye level with Delphine. “Are you ready to begin?”

 

Delphine swallowed, already feeling the vodka numbing her—or maybe that was the giving way of fear. Maybe it was the release of helplessness, the absence of adrenaline—she couldn't be sure. She nodded once, slowly. “Yes.”

  

* * *

 

 

The freakout over Corporal Cormier being taken didn't last long. They'd all paced for a little while, muttering expletives under their breath like incantations that might be able to suddenly make her reappear. No dice. Cormier remained absent for the rest of the evening. No one slept, but no one talked, either. Cosima stared up at the ceiling—or, rather, at nothing because she couldn't really see much more than a few feet in front of her—and thought about home. The small details, Veronica's growing detachment, her boredom and disillusionment with the bureaucracy of her job, her anger at her mother, seemed so distant. She couldn't remember what it was like to feel emotional attachment to them. It was like being the narrator of an animal documentary, watching the most intimate moments of her own life and accepting the outcome of each situation as an inevitability of nature. Lions kill antelope, her mother remarried and doesn't want her father's ashes anymore, penguins huddle together against the harshest cold, her girlfriend cheated on her. All just small moments of anguish that cannot be helped or altered.

 

When she thought of Delphine, as she inevitably did, something shifted. She replayed the scenario of her being taken again and again, she rewound the tape and tried to find every moment where she could possibly have intervened, could possibly have saved her. Then she'd remember that she's not just Delphine, she's Corporal Cormier, a _soldier_. She's someone who is paid to take on the kind of threat they were facing now. In order to shield her from this sort of danger, she'd need to go back far enough to change that. She should focus on her own life, her own problems. No fatalistic thinking.

 

And the cycle would begin anew, winding down and down like an eddy, with the sort of circularity that lands otherwise healthy people in psych wards or zonked out on Xanax.

 

It wasn't until the morning, when a lack of sleep began to weigh on her mind enough to slow it and she began to let herself be pulled into a slumber she knew would be fitful and dreamless that the guards burst in again. It was always a production with them, a slam-bang of the door and shouting of unfamiliar words. They took Beth out next. Sarah and Cosima simply looked at each other, brows furrowing in mirrored worry. They didn't say anything. Instead, they both just resettled on the ground to stare at the wall for another few hours.

 

They didn't wait a full day to take Sarah. Instead, they grabbed her as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon and the darkness of night had collapsed the bright pinks of the sunset into grayness. This time, Cosima tried to fight. She grasped at Sarah's shirt and tried to pull her back, shouting at them to let her go. The butt of a rifle to her stomach sent her buckling to her knees, trying to force breath into her lungs and to clear the haze of her unfocused eyes. By the time she recovered, they were gone.

 

She slammed her hand onto the floor, ringing out a loud fleshy slap to the empty room. Her teeth were grinding together, she could feel the tension making her jaw muscles ache, but she couldn't help it. She was all alone now. Would they take her, too? She stood and began pacing, hitting one wall and turning just to make it to the other in too few strides for her own liking. This was being a caged animal, this was what Sergeant Childs had felt not too long ago. Being trapped, wanting to fight ferociously to reclaim your freedom. She had sharp canines, leftovers from an evolution that required teeth that could tear through flesh. She could use them, probably cause some damage. She had no defense against a bullet, though.

 

She sighed and ran a hand over her hair. She could feel loose, unmatted hair where it hadn't been crocheted into the already existing mattes.She frowned. How long had she even been here? Long enough, apparently, for her hair to begin to grow. She found the memory of the sunrises and sunsets fading. Tears pricked at her eyes. She couldn't lose track. She felt around the ground for something—a rock, maybe, a piece of gravel. Anything sharp enough to leave a dent in the cement wall. Coming up with nothing, she let out a low groan that bordered on something like a growl.

 

“Fuck!”

 

* * *

 

 

Delphine wasn't sure how long she'd been lying on the floor, but she was aware that there wasn't a single place on her body she could identify that didn't hurt. The pains ranged from sharp and jabbing to dully aching to throbbing like the bass in a nightclub, but they were dispersed evenly across her body. She groaned and rolled onto her back, finding that it eased the knife-like sensation in her ribs, but also exasperated the unnatural twist of the tense muscles in her back. The last thing she really remembered was trying to cover her internal organs, neck and face from the repetitive blows of the guard's boots, then one final one that managed to land right in her face.

 

She squinted, trying to force her eyes into focus, and realized she was still on the floor of the same room. It was morning, judging by the way the light seemed to shine right through the window from the horizon line. Or maybe that meant it was dusk? She couldn't remember anymore.

 

“Good. You are awake.” The guard's voice came to her, and she felt a hand hook under her arm to help her up.

 

“You didn't kill me.” She realized suddenly. She was so surprised, she said it in English.

 

The guard didn't seemed shocked by this. In fact, she responded to it in Arabic. “No.” She gave a gentle tug on her arm again. “Up.”

 

She stumbled to her feet, finding that it was hard to stay that way with the shooting pains through them, and even harder with the way her brain seemed incapable of coordinating balance with her limbs. The guard let her lean heavily on her, until she started to regain a sense of her body again and her natural athleticism returned to her. Eventually, the guard's hand on her arm became loose, more about guidance than support. She probably could have managed it sooner if her hands weren't still ziptied behind her back.

 

The guard stopped abruptly and pulled on her arm, sending her stumbling into another room. There was another woman there, also wrapped up completely save her eyes with a scarf on her head and handkerchief over her nose and lips. She seemed smaller even than the other guard, somehow, impossibly diminutive. The first guard stepped forward and cut the ziptie, and Delphine's shoulders let out the silent equivalent of an appreciative groan as the muscles managed to start loosening again.

 

“Strip.” Both guards had their guns pointed at her, eyes narrowed. The smaller of them had eyes colder than the steel of her pistol. Delphine shuddered at the idea of stripping down in front of them.

  
“What?”

 

“Do it!” The small one shouted, in English.

 

Delphine frowned, and noted the crease between the first guard's eyebrows, though she never took her eyes from Delphine. She unbuttoned her jacket, and tossed it off to the side, then her pants, her undershirt, her underwear. She crossed her arms over her chest, and instinctively curled in on herself self-consciously. The smaller guard stepped forward and twisted a knob to her left, sending a cascade of freezing cold water onto her. She jumped, and hissed.

  
“Merde!” It felt good on her feverishly hot skin and the bruises certainly didn't mind the numbing effect, but her aching muscles would've killed for some hot water. She thought of her conversation with Cosima the other day—be careful what you wish for. Her father had always said that.

 

The first guard motioned to the side with the muzzle of her machine gun. “There is soap there. Clean yourself.”

 

Delphine did as she was told, hands trembling from both the rapidly progressing precariousness of her situation and the instincts of her body to try to warm itself under the cold spray of water hitting her near constantly. She watched the water run red and brown as it swirled to the drain and thought of how that had been caked to her skin. So much red it was barely diluted by the water. She finished faster, faster than she'd ever taken a shower in her life, and put the soap back in its dish. She reached for the knob hesitantly, glancing over to the guards to be sure this was okay. The first one nodded just slightly, and she turned the water off. The small guard threw a towel to her. When she'd dried herself as much as she could, the small guard motioned to her clothes.

 

“Get dressed.” The first one said. The slightly larger guard had given her a savage beating, but it was still the small one that unsettled her. She had bright blue eyes that seemed to hold the judgment and wrath of God himself in them. She wondered about the eyes, about her use of American-accented English. Perhaps she was one of those college students that decided to join the fight against the United States in a misguided attempt at activism. She supposed she'd never know.

 

Her undershirt was damp with sweat and stained in large swaths by blood, and she hesitated before pulling it on. She looked up to the muzzle of the AK-47 watching her dress and decided she really needed to get over herself. It took her no time at all to get the rest of her clothes back on.

 

They took her back to the first room and sat her again in the chair. This time, there was a camera set up in front of it on a tripod. One of them clicked a button and the recording button glowed red.

 

“State your name.” The first guard said.

 

“Corporal Delphine Cormier, United States Army.” She obeyed, staring directly at the guard.

 

“No.” She motioned to the camera lens with her chin. “To them.”

 

Delphine looked into the camera, which gaped back like a dead horse's eye, all pupil and no whites. “Corporal Delphine Cormier, United States Army.”

 

The smaller girl held up a card with words written messily across it.

 

“Read it.” The first guard said.

 

Delphine scanned it quickly, letting out a shaky breath before speaking.

 

“They've asked me to read a message.” She explained to whatever imaginary audience this would be shown to. She couldn't even imagine what one would do with something like this. Would they mail it? Post it on Youtube? It seemed an absurdity, for something so serious to take so silly a platform. “They've captured myself, another soldier and three journalists. One of the journalists has already been killed.” She thought of Katja's head again, her childhood friend's head, and attempted to soothe the rising panic with a deep breath. “They say we will be killed as well if the United States does not comply with their demands.” She thought of herself, what she must look like. Wet hair hanging stringy around her face, even as it began to curl again from drying in the arid desert air. Her lip was split open, that much she knew, and there was a slight swelling in her upper cheek around her eye. Blood was spattered across her coat, accenting the greens and tans of her camoflauge. Christmas colors, she thought with a bitter, sardonic flare of ire. Beyond that, she had no idea what people might see. “They're asking for—” She balked when she saw the next words, but quickly regained her composure. “They're asking for the removal of American troops from the region or a ten million dollar ransom.”

 

That was the end of the message. She shut her eyes, expecting a harsh grip around her face and a pierce of serrated steel to her neck, but none came. Just the click of a button being pressed. When she opened her eyes, the red light was off.

 

“Good.” The first guard said. The American was packing the camera into a nylon bag. “Come.”

 

She was hauled to her feet again, this time with significantly less force than before. She spared one final glance back toward the room she'd thought she'd be spending her last seconds in. Icy blue eyes were staring back at her. She quickly looked forward again.

 

As they walked by a window, she caught a glint of light off something on the guard's pants. She looked down to the source and saw the blade of the knife the guard had used to cut Delphine's zipties earlier. But instead of the thick rubber handle of a hunting knife, she saw handcarved wood brushed a deep maroon.

  
“Your knife.” She said, as they came to a stop in front of the door to the cell. The guard narrowed her eyes, hand that wasn't on her gun moving down to be sure it was still tucked into its place on her hip. “I was just admiring it. I haven't seen such beautiful wood carving since my mother passed away. Would you mind if--” She bit her lip and looked at the ground, feeling crazy for even considering asking what she was about to. Perhaps she was still feeling reckless from her near-death experience, or maybe all the recent thoughts of her father had left her nostalgic for the driftwood whittlings of her mother. Whatever the motive, she pressed onward. “Could I see it?”

 

The guard didn't say anything still. She took a step backward, and slung the machine gun over her shoulder, replacing it with a pistol she pulled from her hip. She raised it so it was staring Delphine dead in the eye. Her eyes rapidly studied Delphine's face, flicking like REM sleep. Then she spoke. “You move and I shoot.”

 

Delphine nodded. “Of course.”

 

The guard held the handle of the knife up so Delphine could see it. The very bottom of the handle was the dark red she'd noticed before, but the rest was black, carved into a fish. The blade seemed almost to be a shadow of the grim-looking sea creature, protruding from behind its face in a similar shape. Delphine squinted, careful not to inch her head forward, to make out the swirled shapes of wings carved onto the fish's back. Then the knife was gone.

 

“This is enough.” She pushed the door open, cut Delphine's ties, and shoved her in before Delphine even registered she was moving.

 

* * *

 

The door clanged open, and Cosima's heart clenched. Were they coming for her now? Had they killed all the others, and now she was the last survivor? Was it her time? She shut her eyes, waiting for the shouting to come, for the rough hands that would pull her away. But instead she only heard a few shuffling footsteps and the door slamming shut again. She opened her eyes. She definitely thought she was hallucinating.

 

“Corporal Cormier?” She breathed, feeling a laugh begin to bubble from her chest. “Christ, is that you? Are you really there?”

 

Delphine nodded, a laugh of her own beginning to rise. “Yes.”

 

Cosima ran over and wrapped her up into a tight hug, not even noticing the wince of pain from the soldier in her arms as she squeezed on a particularly sensitive spot on her ribs.

 

She pulled back and looked Delphine over, taking in every detail she could. “I thought you were dead for sure!” She laughed again. “God, I could kiss you right now I'm so happy!”

 

Delphine looked down at the floor. “I thought they were going to kill me too.” She glanced back up to meet Cosima's eye, warm as it ever had been, more inviting than she'd ever seen an eye look before. They begged her to get lost in them, in the feeling of Cosima anchoring her back into life from the dark, cavernous infinite nothingness of certain death. “Though I doubt I look very kissable right now.” She brought a hand up to trace at where her lip was split in half and scabbed over.

 

“You look great. Seriously, I've never been happier to be looking at someone ever in my life.”

 

“That's a lie, but a sweet one.” Delphine said softly, giving in to the urge to have a human interaction that involved more than barked commands. She settled into the hug and encircled Cosima's waist with her arms. “I'm happy to see you, too.”

 

Cosima leaned in to her chest and held her around the shoulders. “Anytime. Seriously.”

 

Delphine glanced around, taking in the cell as though it could have undergone some great remodel in the time she'd been gone. But no, it looked the same, only significantly emptier. “The others?” She said, voice quiet in its hesitance, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer or not. She didn't pull away from Cosima's embrace. She was determined to stay like this until she absolutely had to move. The body nestled into hers was warm, she'd forgotten what the warmth of another human felt like, how amazing it was. She felt herself begin to settle back into her skin, into a sense of humanity. It felt like a sigh.

 

“Taken. The day after you.”

 

Delphine blinked. “How long have I been gone?” Could it have been more than a day? How was that possible?

 

Cosima pulled back and scanned her features slowly. “You're joking, right? You don't know?”

 

She shook her head, bouncing damp curls around her shoulders. “I thought it had only been a day.”

 

“It's been...” Cosima looked over her shoulder, squinting at tally marks on the wall. There were two identical sets of completed tallies—ten in total—etched shaky and light gray in the concrete. “A week?” They were still touching at the hip, though their upper bodies were tilted back and away from one another, making an awkward 'Y' that was probably not doing any favors for either of their lower backs, both of which were strained from sleeping on the hard floor. It was worth it, though, for them to be touching a friendly human. Delphine was the first person she'd interacted with since they'd taken Sarah.

 

“Merde.” Delphine ran a hand through her hair. “They must have drugged me, I--” She shook her head. “I don't remember.”

 

“Well, hey. It's okay.” Cosima stepped back, grasping Delphine's hands and guiding her forward gently. “I have some food leftover. How about you eat, and drink some water and we can worry about all that later, once you're feeling better?”

 

She nodded, dumbly, dazed by the new information that she was missing a week of her life, and let herself be led to a corner where some food sat untouched. She scarfed it down quickly and chugged the water in the canteen, not even bothering to ask Cosima if she wanted any or worry about when they might be fed next. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until right this moment.

 

Cosima stared out the window, watching the sun begin to appear in the top of the frame, shining light brightly directly into her eyes. She shifted so that she was facing Delphine, blocking the sun from doing the same to her companion. “So, what happened?”

 

Delphine paused with the canteen at her lips, and slowly lowered it back to the ground. She didn't make eye contact with Cosima. “I'd rather not talk about it right now.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” Cosima glanced away, at the door. She missed the feeling doors used to give her—the illusion of escape. A threshold, a passageway. Doors had been highly symbolic to her before. Now, doors were just an extension of walls. They opened only to let in bad omens, a portal to hell only demons could cross. When she glanced back over to Delphine, she'd set the food and water off to the side. She reached out a hand, and motioned toward herself.

 

“Come here.”

  
Cosima swallowed, then scooted forward so Delphine could hold her against her body. Her shoulder pressed into Delphine's armpit and she laid her head against her shoulder. She felt her arms circling Delphine's waist without thinking about it.

 

“It freaked me out, you know.” She said quietly. “Thinking that I might not ever see you again.”

 

Delphine's hand stroked at her waist, just below her bottom rib. “It frightened me, too.”

 

“It's just, I mean...” She let out a frustrated huff, the sort of noise cows make when snorting at flies buzzing around their faces. “It's more than just being afraid that you were dead. I had all these things I wish I'd been brave enough to say instead of just dancing around.”

 

“I know.”

 

Cosima lifted her head to look Delphine in the eye. “What?”

 

“I said, I know. I am not blind, Cosima, and you are not as subtle as you think you are.”

 

“Oh.” Cosima fell back into her body, curling up against it. She'd known, and hadn't made a move either. She didn't _want_ Cosima to make a move. She wished there were anyone else she could seek the comfort of closeness with, but she knew it was useless. There were times one had to make sacrifices. This was certainly one of those times, and quite a small sacrifice at that. Who needed pride at the precipice of death?

 

Cool fingers touched lightly at the bottom of her chin and instinctively, she tilted her head up to look at Delphine again.

 

“You have a second chance now, though.” Delphine looked different than Cosima could ever remember seeing her. She looked naked, more naked than most people got in a lifetime, as she inhaled deeply and held it.

 

“I guess I do.” She straightened so that her head was level with Delphine's and tilted her head slightly to the side.

 

Delphine bit into her bottom lip, leaving ripples of indentation in the bruised skin. Cosima reached up, stroking her thumb along the side of Delphine's face that wasn't a faded purple and yellow muddle and inched closer.

 

“Are you sure about this?” She breathed. “I mean, do you want me to kiss you or are you just wanting some kind of primal validation that you're alive?”

 

“I want you to kiss me.” Delphine's eyes fluttered shut and her long fingers found hold at the base of Cosima's skull. “Does it matter why?”

 

Cosima shook her head slightly, not breaking her view of Delphine for a second. “No, I guess not.”

 

There was a brief moment of hesitation where time seemed to stop and there was nothing but the anticipation of Delphine. It was that beautiful moment where every outcome seemed possible. Cosima's stomach twisted in a pleasant, throbbing jumble of nerves. Then Delphine pulled her the rest of the way in, meeting the kiss with the passion of one who needed to drain every last experience of its energy because she does not know when she may get the chance again.


	6. Flow

Delphine woke to an empty bed. She ran her hand across the exposed sheet next to her. The top ones were bunched up against her body, thrown carelessly off the one that had shared her bed the night before. It was still warm, he couldn't have been gone long. She yawned and stretched, arching her back off the bed and feeling a satisfying crack. She smiled and settled back into her covers, listening to the soft patter of rain.

 

Except no, the sun was shining unfiltered through her window. Her smile faded and she sat up straight to look around the room. The door to her bathroom was ajar and steam was leaking from around it, dissipating into the air. He was showering. Her smile returned tenfold and she padded to the bathroom, naked as the day she was born.

 

When she slid the curtain aside she found him soaping his body, humming softly under his breath. He opened his eyes and grinned at her.

 

“Well. Hey there, sleepyhead.”

 

She cocked a hip out and bit her lip. “I thought you'd left.”

 

“I was going to, but figured a shower couldn't hurt.”

 

“You're going to smell like apples.” Delphine said with a small giggle, stepping into the spray. He stepped back so she had room to let the water soak her.

 

“Doesn't bother me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up against him. He was warm, and hard, and she nuzzled into his neck. He nipped at her earlobe. “Does it bother you?”

 

“Mmm.” She hummed and placed a close-mouthed kiss to his neck, feeling his chuckle vibrate against her lips. “Not at all.”

 

“Up for one last go before I have to be at work?”

 

She leaned back and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him roughly. It didn't take him long to begin kissing down her body, pausing to suck one of her nipples into his mouth.

 

“Merde.” She whispered, letting her head fall back against the smooth plasticky wall of the shower. His kisses continued to move down and he made it to her bellybutton before she stopped him. “Hey.” She caught her fingers in his short hair and tugged. He let out a little gasp, but looked obediently up at her. “What's your name again?”

 

He chuckled. “Why do you wanna know? Gonna go and get all clingy on me now?”

 

Delphine didn't particularly care for relationships. She liked having unattached sex; it never got boring, she didn't have to deal with other people's emotional shit, and most of all she didn't have to let anyone in on hers. She didn't particularly like to share. She had a whole speech for when she went out to pick up guys, to let them know exactly what they could expect from her. They rarely had a problem with it at the time, though sometimes they would act jealous and confused if they saw her out with someone else.

 

She rolled her eyes. “No.” She leaned down a little so she could lower her voice. “I just want to know what name to call out.”

 

He stood and pressed her harder against the wall. “Matt.” He breathed. “And you?”

 

“Delphine.” She responded. He moved in to kiss her again, but she pulled away. “Unh-uh. As you were.” She pushed at the top of his head and he laughed, falling to his knees to finish what he'd started.

 

Matt had been good—good enough that she could still remember his name. Good enough that he'd made her come with enough time for some good old-fashioned heterosexual fucking before the water turned cold and they had to take it back to her bed.

 

But what he'd done to her was nothing compared to the heat that was sparking across her skin now. She was aching in a familiar sort of way, the kind that was usually fueled by teenage hormones. She was an adult now, but she still couldn't help but whimper and buck as Cosima's hands slipped up under her shirt and started grazing over her nipple.

 

She let out a long moan and grasped tighter at Cosima's shoulders. She was above her, pressing her into the ground with forceful kisses that were probably not a great idea for two people with likely head injuries. Neither of them could even stop to think of their aching bodies now, though, because all notion of pain had slipped away into the ether, turning to pleasure on their overheated skin. Delphine dropped her hand down and slipped it under the waistband of Cosima's underwear. She slid her finger around the rim of her, and felt Cosima rise up into the touch. She turned her head away to take small gasping breaths that weren't near enough.

 

“Oh, fuck.”

 

Cosima smiled at the filthy mouth her girlfriend seemed to have reserved only for when Cosima was inside her. Veronica's nails dug harshly into her back as she pumped her hips faster. Cosima matched the pace to time up with her panting whimpers, feeling her abs begin to ache from the strain of it. They didn't use toys often, but this anniversary, she'd received it as a present from Veronica and they'd decided to use it right away.

 

Veronica came with a cry, pulling Cosima down on top of her. A few seconds later, Cosima noticed she was shaking.

 

“Ronni?” She asked. She tried to pull away, but Veronica's hands held her tightly to her body. “Sweetie, what's wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” Veronica sniffed and turned her head off to the side. Cosima managed to pull herself up this time, letting the arms around her slip away.

 

“It's obviously not nothing.” She stroked at her cheek, encouraging her to turn her head back to look at her. “Did I hurt you?”

 

Veronica sputtered out a short laugh through her tears and shook her head. “No, Cosima. I hurt you.”

 

Cosima frowned, a grain of panicking lodging in her. Her heartrate picked up. “What?” Her voice sounded flat to her own ears.

 

“I didn't mean to.” She said, gasping, out of breath from both the orgasm and her crying. “I really didn't. It just happened.”

 

Cosima stood up and then, realizing she still had the toy strapped to her hips, quickly unsnapped it and shoved it to the floor. “What happened?” When she just started to sob harder, Cosima brought a hand to rest on the top of her head. “Veronica. What. Happened?”

 

Veronica swallowed and looked at her with wide, moist, pleading eyes. “I slept with someone else.”

 

She'd never be able to say why it was Veronica popped into her head at the precise moment that Delphine's fingers slipped inside of her, but she did. Cosima quickly tried to shove the thoughts off to the back of her brain to be dealt with later. She tried to focus on the fingers that were stroking inside of her surprisingly well for someone who, as far as she knew, was straight as a board. But Veronica's face kept popping up. She shut her eyes tightly, feeling the betrayal tenfold. They'd smoothed over it, said it was fine. Said they'd go to couples counseling (they never had made it). Cosima had simmered and Veronica could tell. She was willing to do her penance and win Cosima back. But the truth was, Cosima didn't think she had it in her to forgive. The pain just wouldn't go away.

 

She grunted, trying to make it feel good again—it had felt amazing up until a minute ago, touching Delphine had felt like a revelation. Kissing her was better than a kiss had felt in a long time. But she couldn't bring it back.

 

“No.” She whimpered. Trying again to banish thoughts of her girlfriend.

 

Delphine stopped and looked up at her, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows. “No?” She asked, softly. “Am I doing it wrong?”

 

Cosima shook her head and brought her fingers up to stroke along Delphine's cheeks. “No, you're doing it so, _so_ well.” She breathed. “It's me. I'm just... I can't stop thinking about...” She huffed out a breath and let her head fall back to the floor.

 

Delphine gently removed her fingers from inside her and rested her wet hand on the floor next to Cosima's head. “It's okay. We don't have to.”

 

“But I want to.” Cosima said through clenched teeth. Her eyes were still clenched tightly shut. “Fuck this.”

 

Delphine bit at her lip, unsure of what to do. She'd never been particularly good at comforting people, despite what Cosima seemed to think. Emotions made her uneasy, the idea of using words to soothe made her freeze altogether.

 

“I'm sorry.” Cosima said, bringing her hand up to her eyes. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

 

“It's okay.” Delphine repeated. She was a translator, someone who traded in words for a living, but these were the only ones she could think of.

 

“Just...” Cosima sighed. “Just talk to me.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Anything.”

 

Delphine sat back on her feet and rested her hands on her thighs. Pressure. This was too much, too fast. “I don't know what to say.”

 

“Your childhood?” Cosima prodded, opening her eyes. When panic flashed clear across Delphine's face, she changed tack. “Beth? How did you two become friends?”

 

Delphine figured this was as unintrusive as Cosima's questions were going to get, so she steeled herself against her fear. “Okay. Well, we were in a squad together, of course. And she'd come over to my house once before for some wine, but it wasn't until later that we bonded.” She let out a slow breath, remembering the sight of Beth, soaked through from the rain and standing on her doorstep. “She'd had a fight with her boyfriend, and needed someone to drink with.”

 

“What's his name? Her boyfriend.”

 

“Paul.”

 

Beth was standing in the doorway to their bedroom, a tumbler full of whiskey in her hand. “Where are you going?”

 

“To Cory's for a few days.” He replied, not even pausing in his packing to look up at her. He shoved a shirt carelessly in the suitcase. “I think we need some time away from each other.”

 

“No.” Beth could feel the tears in her eyes, frantic and bursting. “You can't.”

 

That made him stop. He looked up at her. “I can't? What, are you giving me orders now? I'm not your subordinate.”

 

“I know. I didn't mean it like that, you know I didn't.” The tears were hot on her cheeks, which felt ice cold. Her entire body felt frozen.

 

“Then what did you mean? Cause the way I see it, you've left me no choice.” His jaw muscles pulsed beneath the skin and stubble.

 

“What did I do?”

 

“You know what you did.” He shut the case and locked it then walked to push past her into the kitchen.

 

“I'll fix it. I swear I will.”

 

“You'll fix it.” He watched her for a second, eyes flicking back and forth across her face. “Okay. Fine. Then you won't mind if I do this.” He reached up into the cabinet and pulled out the two bottles of whiskey in it. He uncapped them and held one in each hand to pour them down the sink.

 

“No! Paul! What are you doing?!” She lunged at him for the bottles, but he was faster than her. He dropped one of them to shove her out to arms' length, holding there as the liquid trickled down the drain.

 

“There!” He shouted, stomping over to the kitchen island next, picking up a small orange bottle and twisting the cap off. He flung it toward the back patio. Small white pills scattered all over the floor. “Fixed.” He walked back into the bedroom to grab his suitcase then stomped to the door. He chanced one final glance over his shoulder to see Beth standing completely still, gaping at the pills littering the floor. One final scoff and he was out the door. He intentionally slammed it as loud as he could on his way out.

 

Beth was thinking about him. She missed him. She'd probably never admit it to him, or to anyone really, but she'd built her life with him as the cornerstone. They shared a home,  they shared a dream .  It hadn't been good in a long time, b ut he'd never left for real. He always came back. This time it was her that left, albeit not intentionally. She felt a sick satisfaction at thinking of his sadness if she died. If he was sad, that meant some part of him would had to have loved her still.

 

The photographer had been here for a few days, and the two of them had stuck to opposite sides of the room. It was better that way, to save their energy for fighting the enemy as opposed to each other. She had a feeling Sarah's bitch setting didn't have an off button,  and thinking of Paul was making Beth particularly edgy.

 

“All right.” She said, nodding at Beth with her chin. “If I don't talk to someone else soon, I'm gonna actually lose my bloody mind.”

 

B eth glanced up at her and settled her hands on the floor next to her. “Yeah, I think I might be driving myself kind of insane over here, too.” She admitted.

 

“What've you been thinking about?”

 

Beth sighed and dropped her gaze to her knees, which were bunched up near her chest. “My boyfriend.” She muttered. She looked back up at Sarah. “You?”

 

“My kid.”

 

“ _You_ have a kid?” She scoffed. “That's frightening.”  


“Fuck off.” Sarah growled back.

 

“I'm just teasing you, kid. Relax.” Beth brushed a grain of sand from her leg. “What's its name? Your kid.”

 

“Kira.” She let out a little sigh.

 

“I miss that little monkey.”

 

Cal laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You're gonna see her in a few hours. She's just going to school.”

 

Sarah steadied herself against his weight with a hand on the doorframe. “I know.” She turned her head to look at him and he took the opportunity to press a sweet kiss to her lips. “I just wanna do right by her.”

 

“You are.” He said with a smile. “After you get paid for the pictures on this next trip, we'll be able to buy a real home for her here in the city. You two won't have to live with Mrs. S watching over your shoulder all the time.”

 

Sarah nodded. She knew that she was doing the right thing by going to Afghanistan next week, but she still couldn't bring herself to think of being away from Kira for so long. That girl was her heart, she was the reason Sarah was still alive.

 

“She's used to me being gone.” She said softly. “I hate that.”

 

“Well, soon you won't have to go away anymore.” He stepped back to turn her to face him, still lingering close enough that she his arms were folded behind her back. “They promised you a full-time domestic position after this assignment.”

 

She stepped forward completely into his embrace and leaned against his chest. “Yeah.” She mumbled. “Yeah. Just one more job overseas.” She sighed.

 

“Plus, Kira being away at school means that we can have some time off from being Dad and Mummy.” He placed a kiss to her shoulder then raised his eyebrows. “Bedroom?”

 

Sarah grinned and pulled away, slapping at his ass as she bolted up the stairs with Cal hot on her heels.

 

She didn't want to admit that she missed him, too. Just as much as Kira.

 

“You'll see her again.” Beth said, her voice unwavering. “We'll get out of this.”

 

“How can you know that?” Sarah bit back, bitterness rising in her like bile. “You don't know that.”

 

“Yes, I do. You and me are survivors. We get ourselves into tight spots but we always fight our way back out.”

 

Those were possibly the first kind words Beth had ever said to her, and even those landed awkwardly in her mind. She didn't want to be a fighter anymore, she wanted to be a mother. She wanted to let go of her anger. She wanted to give her daughter a normal family, a normal life. She didn't want Kira to have to live like she did.

 

“I hope you're right.”

 

“I am.”

 

They fell back into silence for another few minutes, before Sarah asked “and your boyfriend?”

 

“What about him?”

 

“You miss him?”

 

Beth tapped a slow rhythm on her knee with the side of her thumb. “Yeah.”

 

After the fight, she'd texted the squad to see if any of them wanted to go for a drink. They all agreed (of course they did, alcoholic fuckers), except for Cormier, who was still as elusive as she'd been before they'd had their bonding session. Since all of her alcohol was gone, she went out to the store for a fresh bottle. She left the pills scattered across the floor. Paul could fucking clean up his own mess.

 

She showed up a half hour later at Cormier's front door. “Hey.”

 

“Hello, Sergeant.” She said, stepping off to the side so that Beth could come in from the rain.

 

“Please.” Beth said, smiling and flipping down the hood of her sweatshirt. “When we're not on duty, call me Beth.”

 

“Okay.” Delphine seemed uncomfortable, a little fidgety. “What can I do for you?”

 

Beth held the brown bag of whiskey in her hand up to the light. “Help me drink this.”

 

“I thought you were going out for a drink?” Delphine asked, though she took the bottle from her hands and slipped the bag off of it.

 

“They can wait.” She unzipped the hoodie and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair. “They'll probably forget I was the one that texted them soon, anyway.”

 

She followed Delphine to her kitchenette where she pulled out two glasses and poured two fingers of the alcohol in each. Delphine went to take a sip, but Beth stopped her by holding her glass out in front of her face. Delphine chuckled and knocked them together with a sharp clink before they both took a sip.

 

Delphine frowned. “This is shit.”

 

Beth grinned. “I know. Nothing like a little gut rot to make your worries fade into oblivion, eh?”

 

Delphine sighed. She wished she had another drink. And a cigarette. God, she wanted a cigarette more than she ever had in her life.  Cosima had sat quietly beneath her, listening to her talk about that night. Then, about halfway through the story, she'd grabbed her hand and started to play with her fingers. It had felt uncomfortable in its intimacy. It was the sort of thing she'd seen couples do at restaurants. She finished the story tritely and stood, leaving Cosima along on the ground, propped up on her elbows.

 

“Where are you going?” She asked, watching Delphine walk to the other side of the cell.

 

“I just felt like standing.” Delphine leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

Cosima cocked a brow at her. “Did I upset you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Cosima sighed. “Don't lie to me.”

 

“I'm not lying to you.” She ran a hand through her hair, leaving the other resting against the opposite hip. “I just... I'm not a touchy person, okay?”

 

“So, this is about me holding your hand.” Cosima laughed. “Jesus, I would find the one person who has commitment issues in a situation like this.”

 

“I don't have commitment issues, Cosima, because this isn't a relationship.” Her voice sounded firmer than she'd intended, more annoyed. It wasn't fair to Cosima, she knew, to snap at her like this but she couldn't hold the frustration inside any longer.

 

Cosima ground her molars together, then swallowed. “Fine. Whatever. Sulk in the corner. See if I care.” She fell onto her back and threw an arm over her eyes. “Bitch.”

 

“I heard that.”

 

“Good.”

 

Delphine shook her head. 'You're acting like a child.”

 

Cosima just laughed and lifted her head. “I'm acting like a child? That's rich. You're the one who moved to the other side of the room because you didn't want my hand-holding cooties.”

 

“I...” Delphine sighed angrily. “I don't even know what that means. But yes, you're acting like a child because you can't separate sex from emotion. Sex is a basic biological need, Cosima, one that will not be met while we're in here by anyone but you. All right? That's all this is.”

 

Cosima's nostrils flared, and for a second it seemed as though she might retaliate again. “Fine. Sorry for impeding you getting your biological needs met with wanting to have a fucking conversation.” She rolled over onto her side so that she was facing the wall with her back to Delphine.

 

Delphine sighed and her knees buckled beneath her, sending her sliding down the wall to the floor. Her head dropped to her knees and she felt lonely again, like she was the only one in the room. She wanted to apologize, but she had no words. She wasn't sorry. She had done nothing wrong. And she was tired. So tired. She laid on the floor and turned to face the wall as well, using her arm as a pillow. A few minutes later and she drifted back off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. I felt like this chapter we needed a bit of a break from the drama and maybe get a bit more of a glimpse into the characters' heads. So, I tried out something new. I can't tell if it's too choppy and hard to follow or if it's interesting. Let me know what you think. I'm sorry if there are mistakes, I've been staring at it all day and trying to make the style flow and I just can't edit it anymore. So, yeah. Let me know your thoughts. Enjoy!


	7. No Big Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made you wait forever and I am so effing sorry, friends. I'm the worst.

“Cosima.” They'd been awake for a few hours now, breakfast was already scarfed down and she'd paced the length of the cell what felt like a million times without her cellmate breathing a syllable to her. Cosima hadn't so much as looked at her since their argument the night before, she was pretty sure. All she'd done so far is pick up a piece of metal to scratch against the cement wall, starting a new set of tallies next to the two completed ones already marked into it. That had been a while ago, however. “Cosima.” She tried again, but still got no response from her. Not even a glance. No acknowledgment at all. She let out a sigh. “You can't ignore me forever.”

 

Cosima snorted, but didn't say anything. She was stretched out on the floor, one hand padding the floor beneath her head, the other thrown across her stomach. She'd been staring at the ceiling for at least an hour.

 

Delphine ran a hand through her hair. “Cosima, I need your help with something.” Still nothing. “Unless you'd like to remain in this room until they get tired of playing with us.”

 

Cosima's eyes clamped shut, and the hollows of her cheeks sunk in. After a few beats, she asked “what do you want?”

 

“Can you think of any reason a Muslim sect would use a flying fish as a symbol?”

 

Cosima rolled her head to the side, squinting at Delphine. “Fish are a Christian symbol.” Her tone was poisonous, pompous.

 

“I know.” Delphine responded. She had to suppress the strong urge to roll her eyes. Cosima seemed to bring out an unignorable tendency toward insolence in her. “But the guard had a knife with a fish carved into the handle. And there was an American guard, as well.”

 

Cosima furrowed her brow. “An American? Maybe he's just a political radical that wanted to join the action?”

 

“I thought so, too, but then I saw the knife...” Delphine let herself trail off, happy for the help and the momentary truce. She'd been going over the facts on her own, and they simply weren't meshing. The version of the truth she had didn't match the mounting information in front of her.

 

Cosima hummed in thought for a second. “Did you say flying fish?” She asked, a slight wariness to her tone.

 

“Yes. Does that mean something to you?”

 

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Katja wrote an article recently about a religious sect in Ukraine that was gaining attention for its radical politics. With all the unrest, they were trying to wrest control. I don't remember what they called themselves, but they essentially opposed everything modern.” She cocked her head to the side. “Their symbol was the flying fish. But what would they be doing here in Afghanistan?”

 

Delphine bit her lip. “Ukraine?”

 

“Mmm-hmm.”

 

She brought her hands to her hips. “I suppose... The guards, their accents are...” She sighed, unsure of how to describe the subtlety of language to someone who only spoke one. “Heavy? And their grammar is poor.”

 

Cosima cocked an eyebrow at her. “You think they might be Ukranian?”

 

She shrugged. “Perhaps.”

 

“But that doesn't prove anything. Maybe radicals from Ukraine came to help radicals here.”

 

“That's possible, yes. Though it's not as though Muslims and Christians have gotten along, historically speaking.” Delphine added. “What else do you know about this Ukranian sect?”

 

Cosima sighed. “Not much, really. Just what Katja wrote. There's an offshoot in Canada that embraces science. Putin pretty much crushed the Ukranian sect when they tried to gain control of the government in the chaos of the occupation.”

 

“Perhaps they came here to recuperate?” Delphine asked.

 

“Could be.”

 

“Bravo.” A twang came from the doorway, which was open and occupied by a man in a wide-brim hat, plaid shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots; a large silver steer perched atop his buckle. Two guards flanked him on either side. “I'm impressed by you ladies.” One of the guards dropped a chair in the center which he settled in, crossing an ankle over his knee. The two guards remained standing on either side, guns aimed at Cosima and Delphine.

 

“Who are you?” Cosima snapped, set on edge. She felt electric fear from her teeth to her toes.

 

“Oh, how rude of me.” His mouth cracked open in a wide smile. “Name's Henrik. And you must be Cosima Niehaus.”

 

She nodded and flickered her gaze over to Delphine, who was watching the scene with her jaw set tight.

 

He nodded his chin toward Delphine. “And Delphine, of course. How could I forget our crown jewel?”

 

“What?” Delphine's jaw barely opened to utter the words.

 

“It's a long, boring story, honestly. But I heard you two were making headway in figuring the whole thing out.” He leaned back, throwing an arm over the back of the chair, “and I came running to see for myself.”

 

“You've been listening in on us?” Cosima asked.

 

“No, not me.” He motioned to the guards on either side. “I asked my brothers and sisters to keep an eye on you.” The smile began to fade from his face and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I heard about your... indiscretion the other night, and I wanted to let you know we can help, if you're ready to repent.”

 

Cosima scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fuck off.”

 

He chuckled. “I heard you were feisty.” He said, pointing at her. Then, turning to the male guard, added “watch out for that one, Mark.”

 

The guard just nodded then returned his gaze to Delphine over the top of his rifle.

 

“I'm not a cat.” She growled back.

 

“No, you most certainly are not. You're a human being, designed for dominion over the Earth and all its creatures.” He shot her a playful wink. “Including the feline ones.”

 

“What do you want from us?” Delphine asked, already weary of Henrik's games and Cosima's willingness to blindly play into them. “Why are you here?”

 

He leaned back in the chair again, regarding Delphine silently for a few seconds. “I wanted to ease your minds a bit. We're not monsters, here.” He spread his hands out, palms up, placating. “We're children of God.”

 

“You beat the shit out of Delphine.” Cosima was glaring now, not even bothering to hide her disdain. “God tell you to do that?”

 

He sighed through his nose. “No, of course not. It was a necessary means to get what we wanted. We made sure to keep her drugged through the worst of the pain.”

 

“And Katja?” Cosima shot back. “Was she a necessary casualty of your holy war, too?”

 

“No.” His gray eyes met her brown ones and held them. “What happened to your friend was an unfortunate accident. We never intended for any harm to come to her.”

 

“What exactly is it you want?” Delphine was getting irritated. Cosima kept derailing the conversation, sending it off on emotional tangents that did little to reveal the situation, and only seemed to serve to ease her guilt and rage.

 

He cocked his head off to the side, a knowing smile toying at his lips. “The attention of a Ms Marian Bowles.”

 

Delphine was pretty sure her heart simply stopped beating, then. In fact, she was sure most of the autonomic functions of her body stopped because she felt cold and unbearably out of breath, like she was drowning in the ocean. “What? Why?” Even her own words sounded as though she were submerged underwater.

 

“Excellent question. One that I'm afraid I can't answer right this second. Although,” he nodded his chin at Cosima, “your friend here may be able to help you figure that one out. Then again, she doesn't exactly have all the facts. Does she, Ms Cormier? Or, should I say, Ms Beraud?”

 

Delphine felt herself flinch toward him, but held herself back when she remembered the gun aimed squarely between her eyes. She hated everything about this Henrik, she decided. She especially hated, though, the way he said her name (except it was _not_ her name, not anymore). Bay-road, he'd said. It sounded clunky and disgusting in his mouth.

 

He laughed again, this time focusing on Cosima. “Does that name mean anything to you, Ms Niehaus?”

 

She frowned, brows furrowing. “I—It sounds familiar, but...” She trailed off and traced the contours of Delphine's face with her gaze, finding nothing new or unusual about her. Who was Delphine Beraud? How had she lied to the military? Did she change her name or take on an entirely different identity? And why the hell were both Beraud and Bowles such familiar names?

 

“Think Daniel.” Henrik said. Then, he stood. “Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you two, but I've got to get home to the family to help prepare for the sabbath.” He looked between them. “Again, I just want to reiterate: we're not interested in hurting you if we don't need to. In fact, I've decided to introduce myself to you two because you're knowledgeable, and that's valuable to us.” The kindly, paternal smile returned to his face. “And please do let me know if you change your mind about repenting. It's never too late. The Lord loves all His children, even when they act out to hurt Him.”

 

“Wait.” Cosima called as he began to turn to walk out. “What about the others? Sarah and Beth?”

 

“Perfectly safe.” He assured her. “But it's best if they not know about this, so we're gonna have to keep you all separate for now.” He tipped his hat. “I'll be in touch shortly.” He and the guards disappeared, taking the chair with them and leaving nothing but silence.

 

Cosima was staring at the ground, arms crossed over her chest, her brow furrowed in a deep concentration. Delphine was watching the slow passage of clouds in the sky outside the window. For a long time, they were silent again. Just as they'd begun to chip away at it, too.

 

Finally, Cosima managed to speak. “Who's Daniel Beraud?”

 

Every muscle in Delphine's body visibly tightened, turning her into one large contraction,  hard like stone . “Nobody.”

 

Cosima shook her head. “No, we're not playing this game right now, Delphine. Tell me who he is. Tell me who you are.”

 

Delphine didn't respond. Cosima strode forward and grasped her by the arm, forcibly turning her. Delphine shoved her off so she stumbled back a few steps.

 

“Who is he, Delphine?” Cosima shouted at her, face turning a deep red in her anger.

  
She let out an angry huff of a sigh and turned her head away. But still, she muttered “my father.”

 

“And what does he have to do with this?”

 

Delphine shook her head, glancing up at the ceiling. “I don't know. Honestly, Cosima, I don't.”

 

“Marian Bowles.”

 

Delphine sucked her lips into her mouth and shook her head. “My godmother. A good friend of my Father's.”

 

“Why would they want her attention?” Cosima took a hesitant step forward, trying to gauge Delphine's reaction through her facial expressions, but found her as stoic as ever.

 

“I don't know. She's a scientist.” She finally turned to look at Cosima, mouth floundering open and shut. “I don't know.” Tears were building in her eyes, and Cosima could feel it softening her anger around the edges. It laid siege on the walls she'd built so hastily around her heart just the night before. How could they be crumbling already?

 

“Okay.” She reached out to touch Delphine softly on the arm and, when she didn't pull away or fight her, she pulled her tight to her. “I believe you.”

 

Delphine buried her face into Cosima's hair, the only evidence of her crying the sniffling breaths and wetness soaking into Cosima's dreads. Cosima ran a hand in circles over Delphine's back, though she felt frustratingly conflicted in the moment. Part of her wanted to shove Delphine away, tell her she could go fuck herself. That part wanted to shout  _now you want to touch me?_ The other was happy to be holding her, to be able to return an ounce of the comfort Delphine had given her when they first awoke to this hell. That part wanted to kiss her, to tell her everything was going to be okay.

 

Needless to say, Cosima was hating her propensity for buckling to the will of beautiful, intelligent women right now.

 

“My father,” Delphine sighed and pulled away. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “He was the French ambassador to the United States. He—” Her voice trembled, so she took a deep breath and tried again. “He went to jail for selling military secrets to the American government. Marian Bowles is a scientist with the Dyad Group.” She shook her head. “That's all I know, Cosima. Honestly. That's everything.” She reached out and grasped Cosima's hands in her own, staring at them hanging between their bodies and biting down hard on her bottom lip.

 

Cosima studied her face again, finding less stoicism but the jumble of emotion was no clearer, no less confusing. “The Dyad group.” She repeated, turning the thought over in her head. It was so unlikely, it seemed impossible. And yet... “I was writing a n article on them a few years back. They had some super hush-hush contracts with the  Pentagon .” Delphine glanced up to catch Cosima's eyes with furrowed brows. “Do you think there's any way...” She trailed off, not wanting to push Delphine away again. As much as she didn't like it, she needed the other woman to help her figure everything out.

 

Delphine dropped her hand and went to go sit up against the wall. “You think my Father was selling military secrets to Marian Bowles.” She said.

 

“It's not outside the realm of possibility, is it?” Cosima asked.

 

She ran a hand through her hair, leaving it atop her head, hair still  clumped between her fingers. She shook her head. “No, it's not. But this sect, then, where do they fit in?”

 

Cosima shrugged, and moved to settle next to Delphine. “No idea.” Delphine laid her head on Cosima's shoulder, and Cosima threaded their fingers together. “I'm surprised you didn't take him up on his offer to repent and be absolved of our sins of the flesh.” Cosima's voice wavered slightly as she spoke, which sent a pang of regret through Delphine's chest.

 

“I'm not sorry I did it.” She responded quietly. “You're one of the best kissers I've ever met.”

 

“Thanks, I guess.” Cosima laughed. A shroud of gloom overtook her then, and she frowned. “Do you think they meant it? That we're valuable?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“What happens when we're not valuable anymore? Will we know too much to be allowed to live?”

 

Delphine raised her head to look at  her . “Cosima.” Her gaze flickered from one eye to the other. “Live in the moment. We may not get many more.”

 

The words knocked the breath from her lungs, and she looked down to the dirty floor. If she died soon, what did she want to be doing? What did she want right this second? She rarely ever asked herself that specific question. She looked back up to see Delphine still watching her, and the answer was clear.

 

She surged forward and caught Delphine's lips in a searing kiss. She forced her roughly to the floor, hovering over her and turning her attention to the long, tanned neck below her. “What are you doing?” Delphine gasped, hands tightening around Cosima's shoulders.

 

“Living in the moment.” Cosima mumbled clumsily around nips to Delphine's neck. “Pissing off Christian extremist assholes.”

 

Delphine let out a little moan as Cosima ground herself down into her. “Do you think goading our captors is wise?”

 

“Don't care.” Cosima was running her tongue along the dip and stretch of her collarbone, now.

 

She grabbed her by the  shoulder and pu shed her away, waiting until she glanced up into her eyes to speak. “I'm still not interested in making any sort of emotional commitment to you.”

 

“Just sex.” Cosima agreed.

 

Delphine's brow furrowed and her lips drew into a tight line, but she nodded anyway and released her grip on Cosima's shirt.

 

_Just sex,_ Cosima told herself as her tongue and lips left moist trails down Delphine's stomach toward her hips.  She paused to trace the jut of her hipbones with the tip of her tongue, then bite down roughly on one of them. Delphine groaned and forced more of her skin into Cosima's mouth. _Just incredible sex,_ she reminded herself as she shut her eyes to focus on the feeling of Delphine's cunt squeezing around her tongue and then, a few minutes later, her fingers.  She tasted amazing, just like Cosima somehow instinctively knew she would, and she realized that yes, actually if a guard walked in and shot her right now, there was nothing she'd rather be doing. _Just really incredible sex_ . Delphine let out a long whimper as she came, forcing her thighs to stay apart so she didn't smother Cosima.  H er hips and legs jerk stiffly  with the effort of it, and Cosima couldn't help but run her hands along taut, trembling thighs .

 

Cosima kissed her way slowly back up Delphine's body, smiling into her skin at the occasional spasming aftershock. She reached her face and Delphine tugged her in for a kiss, not even the slightest bit concerned about  how her own wetness coat ed Cosima's face,  or how she would be getting  it all over her  own with no shower in sight.  _Just really incredible sex with the most gorgeous_ _woman_ _ever._

 

_NBD._


End file.
